Phantom Encounters
by Anawey
Summary: In which a teen-aged girl goes on a government funded student trip to Paris, and gets sent back in time to meet the Phantom! Kay-verse. Rating changed because I'm dense, and only just realized there's some language in here.
1. Phantom Encounters Begins

Phantom Encounters

In which a teen-aged girl goes on a government funded student trip to Paris, and gets sent back in time to meet the Phantom! Kay-verse.

Disclaimer; I only own me. Technically, the People to People trip I was on never went to the Paris Opera house, but I can dream, right?

Phantom Encounters Begin  
XxX

It's strange, really, how easy it is to end up so on someone'sgood-side you can get just by smiling, and taking the time to talk. And teachers seem to love that, I've learned. I guess that's what got me on this trip to begin with.

Certainly, I never thought I'd end up on a bus full of teenagers crossing Europe. In just a week and a half, I'd seen Switzerland, Germany, Belgium, _and _the Netherlands. Now, we were on our way through France to Paris. Holy Christ on a motorcycle, I was excited.

Of course, at the moment, you wouldn't think I was. The architecture, though infinitely beautiful, was basically the same throughout the continent. At the moment, I was lost in Celtic Christmas music, and my brand new copy of Susan Kay's 'Phantom'. Personally, it was my favorite version, because Erik seemed even more the victim than in Leroux's, if that was possible. True, in Kay's he'd killed Nadir's son, but that was out of mercy, and love for the poor kid. So, to be honest, I couldn't see that as murder. Nor could I dislike Erik for all the murders he committed for the Shah and the Kanum, because he'd been drugged with hashish every moment. Basically, I could see why he'd killed.

And really, the fact that he seemed to suffer from heart failure by the time he met Christine made me want to cry. It was my first time reading the book, but I'd come across enough fanfics to feel as though I'd read it through multiple times.

I wondered idly as I read why no one had ever thought to add in a Christmas scene (the music in my cdplayer was starting to get to me, again, and one of the only things I could think of was winter, with its snow, and Christmas; the other thing being at the moment 'Phantom'). I shrugged; It probably would make me cry to have one in there, anyway.

Much as I loved Leroux's Erik, I didn't really like that he seemed so cold. Yeah, he showed more emotional range than the Lon Chaney Phantom (sorry Lon lovers, I didn't like the way he portrayed Erik), but that wasn't saying much; even the 2004 movie (I liked it, but Gerik only seemed to know the emotions anger and sadness, and the 'sunburn of doom' thing was not quite the deformity I was used to) showed more range than that. Kay's Erik, had known happiness, trust, companionship, love, hope, everything! And most of it _before _meeting Christine.

I guess that was part of why I was so into that book; it depicted _all _of Erik's life, and in the end, Erik didn't die unloved (I despised the fact that LerouxChristine only pitied and feared Erik, because he was never overly violent with her; he never struck at her, just yelled, sometimes. Yes, in Leroux, he made her scratch his face, but that was to show her that it wasn't another mask)! And that him and Christine made Charles always made me smile.

I realized idly that I really needed to stop reading fanfics for books I hadn't read yet.

_Ah, well, _I thought, returning to my book. _Live and learn, Desi. Live and learn._

A few hours later, I had set aside my book and was writing again. Avatar fanfics. Another love of mine, despite the fact that I was a _tad _out of the target age range. I was a major fan of Zuko/Katara, partly because the contrasting personalities, and partly because of my own dating experience, which had taught me not to date younger boys.

The thing I liked most, thought, was future Zuko/Katara, where they had kids. I had my own arsenal of children, not only for Zuko and Katara, but Aang/Toph, and Sokka/Suki, too. Seven total, plus others that involved side characters. Yeah, I was kind of a freak.

But 'Phantom' was my big love right now. I had found the original 'Phantom of the Opera', and read that, then proceeded to track down Susan Kay's version which took _for-freakin'-ever! _Finally, Grandma just let Mom use her credit card and order it for me on .

I had kept it out of sight, determined to read it while in Europe. I knew if I didn't wait, I'd have it finished in a few days. As it was, I was almost halfway through the five-hundred and thirty page book.

Eventually, the bus stopped, and I looked out the window.... AND NEARLY DIED OF AMAZEMENT AND SQUEEING!!!!

Not really, but I _did _gasp, then squeak.

We had stopped at _THE PARIS OPERA HOUSE! _My dreams had all come true, and, had I died in some freak accident then, I probably could have died happy.

_Eesh, Des, you are _so _obsessed!_

I knew I was majorly in love with Phantom of the Opera. I admitted and embraced that fact (heh, there were moments when I'd tell my mom or someone that I'd gotten so mad at someone throughout the school day that I wanted to emulate Erik, and strangle them with a Punjab Lasso. In fact, there were several boys on this trip I wouldn't mind getting away from for good... Not that I'd ever actually _do _anything. I had too much of a conscience, and too much of a respect for life).

Doug, our leader, stood up at the front of the bus, and started talking about the opera we would be seeing. I only half listened.

I couldn't believe the beauty of the Paris Opera house. The magnificence and size! I was amazed. And of course, I had completely forgotten that this was a scheduled stop. It had been in the itinerary and everything.

Adjusting my bag over my shoulder, I stepped off the bus and gathered with everyone else on the side of the road. Thibeau, our guide, explained what was going to happen, security at the opera house, the tour, and that we would meet right on the steps after the show. Of course, we had an hour's wait between the tour and the show, so I'd be playing my trusty Nintendo DS. Or working on my new cross stitch kit. I'd bought it in Switzerland. It was a violin, over musical staffs, and there were words across it; 'In music, there is harmony. In harmony, there is peace'. It had reminded me of Phantom of the Opera, and was, in the end, just something wonderful that I loved, because I was very much into music (I played the baritone in my school's band).

The tour was quick, just through the lobby, and the unused dressing rooms. The guide didn't show us the one that had been Christine's, but he _did _show us the skeleton that everyone assumed was Erik's. That I took pictures of. From multiple angles. A few of these would be made into postcards and sent home.

Since the place was closed off for anyone other than People to People guys, we were allowed free roam of the frontal part until the show. So I decided to find someplace to sit and play my DS.

My mind began to work the moment I was in the ginormous auditorium, and I started searching for the way to Box Five on the Grand Tier. I found it, all right.

The armchair in the corner was there, just as in the books. Eyes wide, I brushed my hand over the back of the chair.

"If you're listening, Erik," I breathed, reverent in the presence of such a piece of history, "I mean no harm. Let me know if you don't want me to sit in your chair."

Eyes closed, I touched the pentacle choker around my neck. I felt as though something rubbed against my leg, but when I looked nothing was there, though a ghostly meow seemed to hang and echo in the air.

_Ayesha._

Of course, my crazy mind jumped straight to conclusions, but I didn't feel a single reservation as I set down my bag, and slowly sat in Erik's armchair in Box Five.

After a while, I was completely lost in my game, and the relative silence in the room around me. The little polyphonic music rang out, but was drowned in the enormous silence. There were maybe two other people in the room, and I didn't recognize either of them.

I glanced at the stage, and gasped. The view was _in-freakin'-credible! _I smiled, and leaned back, letting my head rest against the back of the chair as I shifted my feet slightly, one touching the railing of the box.

I jumped out of my skin when I felt a _very _cold hand on the back of my neck. Turning, I gasped, and stumbled back, eyes wide.

"I-I'm sorry!" I squeaked. "I d-didn't know anyone w-was th-there! I'm -"

"Why are you in _my _box, impertinent girl?!"

I stared at the man in front of me. Could this be real, or was this some crazy's idea of a joke? Or maybe a scarred rapist without the money to pay for surgery?

I'm not sure why some of the fear was replaced with curiosity, but somehow, I asked him his name without stuttering, which was something I only did when I was way beyond terrified.

"That is _hardly _your business," he snapped. "Now, get out of my box before I rid it of you myself!"

I gaped. The voice..... where had I heard -

_Oh.... Sweet..... Mother Goddess flying monkeys Santa Clause!_

No _way _was my mind taking me down the right path; this _couldn't _be Gerard Butler just being funny. For one, Gerard didn't have gold eyes. Two, he didn't really sound like this. He was Scottish. And three; Gerard Butler, I'm pretty sure, wasn't a good _six and a half feet tall._

There was only one other explanation for this, but it couldn't be possible.

I turned, and looked out into the auditorium. The couple People to People dudes were gone. I was alone, with what I was fairly sure was _the _Phantom of the Opera.

"You," I gasped, starting to shake. "Holy Christ on a motorcycle! You're _Erik, _aren't you? This is real, isn't it? The _Opera Ghost! _Oooohhh, God. Ooohhhh, boy."

_Erik_

This girl was rather strange. First her clothes. But her attitude struck me as well. Who was she, to come wandering into my box in her strange clothes, with her strange things?

Today was already not my day. Nearly discovered twice, I was feeling rather out of sorts with a headache, and that damnable numbness in my left arm, not to mention the strange tightness and pressure in my chest. No, I was in no mood to deal with this strange, impertinent child.

I did not know how she knew my name, but I hardly cared. She would not last to tell others of my existence. I intended to remain O.G. for as long as I could.

"Please don't hurt me!" she breathed, her eyes wide as she looked into mine. Did she not see the mask? She had looked directly at it but once, and aside from my startling her, she had not yet screamed. "I really didn't mean to be in your way," the girl continued quietly. "I-I didn't know this would happen. I didn't think you'd still be alive! I mean.... Christ, it's been over a hundred years!"

She was mad! It was hardly 1879. The new year wasn't quite here yet. I had certainly not been alive over one hundred years. And if I was meant to live so long, I would not allow such a thing. I would take my own life rather than spend another century in such hell.

I sighed. If the poor thing really was mad, how could I leave her for someone with no pity to find? They would put her in one of those awful asylums, where patients were treated like criminals.

"Stop your shaking, girl," I grumbled resignedly. "I won't hurt you."

She looked up at me, and smiled. Certainly insane. Who else would smile at _my _face, but an insane person? And yet, I could see no madness in those shiny brown eyes.

"That's good to know," she said quietly, laughing nervously, and tucking hair behind her ear. Then she turned a happy face up toward mine, and I wondered what had her so comfortable around me. "I'm Destiny, by the way," she introduced herself. "Don't mind the awkward clothes, though. I"m not really from around here."

"I can see that," I snorted. How dense did she think me? There were no places I knew of where ladies wore pants and shirts. "Where _are _you from?"

She seemed put off by that question, going hesitant, and tense.

"Well," she began nervously, reticent about something. "_Technically _the US, but not the US of now. You'll probably think I'm nuts, but I _can _prove it." She took a deep breath, then, and spoke in a rush; "I'm from the future."

She hadn't lied. It _did _sound insane. But, there again, it also explained the odd style of her dress, why she seemed unconcerned that her arms and most of her upper chest were showing - the shirt she wore was only held up by thin straps - and that she was wearing pants. There was a choker around her neck that some would have found rather inappropriate. However, as a near atheist, it hardly mattered to me. In my eyes, it was simply a shiny symbol of something that did not exist.

She held out her hand, which clutched a small, blue box. "See?" she explained, opening it to reveal several buttons, and two black areas within the blue. She pressed a small switch on the side, and the lower area lit up. Eyes wide, I listened to her elaborate. "This is called a Nintendo DS," this girl, Destiny, went on. "And you play games on it. I'm in the middle of a game based on something called Pok`emon. In my time, these things are all over the place, but this is my only one, and I know you're fascinated with mechanisms, but please don't take it apart, I don't know how to put it back together."

I didn't like this. Somehow, she knew quite a bit about me. Of course, that she was from the future - I must surely be going mad, believing my eyes when I was not myself - would explain it.

"I wish you luck returning to your own time, then," I said, turning and walking away. I was almost out of earshot when she called after me, appearing at the top of the stairs up to Box Five.

"Wait! I-I don't know how to get back..... I tried what got me here, but I can't get back."

There was real fear in her eyes now. More so than when she had looked at me for the first time. And - God! - she was still ignoring my mask, which was something I was not at all used to.

"And... I don't know French," Destiny finished. I frowned, considered just leaving her. God knows I did not need such trouble. I did not want any unnecessary burdens.

I would have left, had she not quietly whispered that she understood after a moment of looking at me, then turned back into the box. Guilt started to creep into me. The child was clearly alone now. Sighing in resignation, I called her back, saying that she could come with me.

"Thank you!" she cried, and before I could move, I found her arms around my mid-section. "I promise I won't tell anyone where you live! Thank you!"

Wholly shocked by her actions, I stepped away. I was not used to physical contact. No one, whether the mask mattered or not, had ever reached out to me like this. Not on meeting anyway. It is true that Nadir and I embraced when we parted in Persia, but that was after years of knowing one another. I was not comfortable with such affection, even if it were only a symbol of thanks.

"Follow me," I said, perhaps a bit too coldly. The girl hesitated before walking quickly to catch up.

She stayed at my side as we walked, and when I led her into the darkness of a secret passage, she gasped, and grabbed my hand.

I froze at once at the contact, all my instincts telling me to pull away, all my manners learned telling me not to be rude, to allow the girl some sort of comfort.

"Sorry," she muttered quietly. "I was just startled by the level of darkness."

I lit a lantern, and as soon as there was light, she dropped my hand and smiled up at me.

"It's a reflex," she explained with a shrug.

_Me_

I couldn't believe this was happening. My mind was stuck entirely on the moment, all thoughts of my own time gone from existence as I was led down through the darkness by a man I had only ever read about, and seen in four movies and a stage play (and an episode of Sopongebob, and one of Family Guy, but those two don't count).

I followed Erik blindly. Never once second-guessing, or doubting anything he did. If he went first, it _had _to be safe for me, too. It would make no sense for him to wander into a trap just to get me in one.

"So," I muttered, feeling rather awkward. I mean, what did you say in a situation like this; Erik leading you down to his house beneath the Opera Populaire? 'What's the air like down here?', or 'How are the acoustics?' 'Are you really as deformed as in the book, or is it the Sunburn gone horribly wrong thing?' None of that was right.

He looked at me, clearly expecting me to continue.

"Do you really have a Siamese cat named Ayesha?"

Erik stared, his mismatched eyes widening slightly. I shrugged.

"Future," I reminded him.

"Erik," I said after a moment. "I'm sorry if all I know is making you uncomfortable. I know it's all awkward from my standpoint. And also, thanks for not just leaving me up there. I'm really lost when it comes to foreign languages."

"I have books that perhaps you can learn from," he said simply, and I smiled again.

We were somewhere in the second cellar when a rat suddenly appeared. The suddenness, coupled with the loud squeak so close made me jump, and latch onto Erik's arm. When I saw it was only a rat, though, I laughed at myself.

"Wow," I sighed sarcastically. "It's a _rat. _I yelped over a _rat. _Eesh, how much more prissy can I get?"

"Is it not normal for maidens to be frightened of rats in your own time?" Erik asked, looking at me as I released his arm.

"Well, sort of," I replied. "But that's just the _blonds. _Not literal blonds only, the term 'blonde', now basically refers to any stupid person. And no one says 'maiden' in my time, though I guess that hardly matters as I'm in your time, you're not in mine." I shrugged again and the rest of the way was silent.

Half way across the lake, I had the ridiculous urge to start singing pirate songs for no reason whatsoever. So, naturally, I did what I always do when I have a strange urge in an awkward situation; rather than sing outright, I just hummed quietly to myself the tune to the song the little boy sings in the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked, seeming slightly unnerved. It was a spooky tune, after all.

"Passing the time, I guess," I explained. He glared at me from behind the mask.

"I know that," he grumbled. "What song are you humming?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, I really don't think we have the time for me to explain right now, if that's alright with you?" He nodded, and went back to rowing, while I went back to my eerie humming. This was going to be one hell of an adventure. _The Phantom of the freakin' Opera! And _it was the original. I was in Summerland (aka heaven for the non-wiccans/pagans reading this)! Summerland, dammit! I was clearly dead, and _very _happy.

XxX  
First chapter out! I hope you all like it, and no, it will not be E/OW. I'm writing from the point of view of me, as I am at sixteen, so don't worry people who don't like E/OW. I'm just a random kid thrown into events, there to shake things up as much as I possibly can.

Erik; *rolls eyes* Heaven save us. --.--

Review, please!


	2. The Lair

Hey all. Just one thing I want to address before the story goes on, so please bear with.

To principia - I'm sorry you don't like my story. But thanks for the compliment about my writing skills. Personally, I like the whole 'time travel to Phantom' thing, 'cause a lot of them are really funny. And to be honest, I don't think anything is a waste if you enjoy it. But you're entitled to your own opinion, and I'm sorry, but; what's wrong with anime? *slightly sad face, an a helpless shrug* It can be so funny. LotR is great, but again, you have a right to your opinion, and I would never try to change it. Again, thanks for telling me my writing is so good, but I don't think this story is going anywhere unless I run out of ideas.

Also, I don't think being drugged up quite justifies murder, but I mean, at least he wasn't chaffing at the bit when sober to start killing (and lets be honest here. The Khanum is _creepy! _Who wouldn't obey her, right? She scares me. And throw in the Shah, and I'd be shaking like a leaf, and kowtowing (which, by the way, is not something I do unless I don't want to die...)).

Anyway, have a good time with whatever you're doing now, and bye!

The Lair  
XxX

"Holy Crow!" I gasped, looking around the room. We were in Erik's little library, and needless to say, I was rather excited.

Erik paused at my words, but said nothing. I thought I recognized the title of one particular book, and stepped toward it.

"Shakespeare?" I squeaked quietly, grinning up at Erik. He nodded, and I squealed. "I _love _Shakespeare! Romeo ad Juliet is so sad! I remember in my high school last year, we did 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. It was great. Except for Oberon. Our Oberon made me want to cry."

"Do I wish to know why?" Erik asked warily.

I shrugged. "It's nothing awkward, if that's what you mean. But at first, we had this really great Oberon. He was Hispanic, or something, and he was really good, but his friends embarrassed him out of it, and then our Solenus had to play Oberon, too. Let's just say Dave wasn't as good as the first Oberon."

I'm not sure what would have happened next, or what I would have said, if I hadn't seen it. But I did, and I was beyond all reason. Nothing could call me back, and I squealed in happiness, shouting and pointing at the familiar instrument in the corner.

"You have a baritone!" I cried, grinning broadly. I looked up at Erik pleadingly. "Do you mind if I look at it? I play one in my school's band."

Erik nodded, and motioned for me to pick up the instrument.

"If you play it," he warned, "be careful. It is rather old."

I nodded, though I wouldn't have known the difference. Clearly, Erik took good care of his baritone.

I sighed happily, and played one of the chorales by Bach from our warm-up books. Frowning, I tried again to hit the high note that messed me up, but Erik intervened.

"Stop," he said flatly. "Stop, stop." Picking up the instrument, he pushed one of the slides in a bit, and pulled out another. He struck a note on the piano in the room, then played the same note on the baritone.

I watched patiently, hoping it hadn't been just me, because that would mean that I didn't really belong in the baritone section. I was only there to help the band, after all (yes, I had grown fond of the instrument, but if it hadn't been for the mass of incoming freshman playing clarinets and flutes, I would have stayed a clarinet player).

After a moment, he handed it back to me.

"It was out of tune," he explained. "Though I would recommend tightening and making your air faster. Try again. Perhaps this time, you'll sound right."

I nodded, smiled, and went tried again. I noticed the difference at once; it sounded clearer, more bell-like, and brassy. The sound was way more beautiful, and this time, the high notes came clear and easy. I pulled away at the end of the strain, and laughed.

"It worked!" I set the instrument down, and before I could second guess, I jumped forward, and glomped Erik, smiling and laughing. "Thank you!" I squealed. "I'll have to remember how far out each thingy-thing goes."

"Lessons," Erik said simply, though I could feel the vibes of awkwardness seeping out from him. "You shall have lessons, as it clearly means so much to you."

My eyes went wide, and my brain exploded. Music lessons? From _The Phantom of the Opera? _Yep. I had _definitely _died and gone to Summerland.

I was milliseconds away from just glomping him again, when a plaintive little meow caught our attention. I saw Erik smile, and I grinned myself.

"Ah, there's my darling," he said, walking forward, and pulling the little Siamese into his arms. Ayesha was definitely Siamese. She was way thinner than a Tonkinese. "This," Erik introduced, stroking the little cat's head. "Is Ayesha."

I gasped quietly at how sweet she looked, and how deep her eyes were. They were a lovely powder-blue color, and I smiled, reaching out a finger for her to sniff.

Ayesha looked at me for a moment, then sniffed my finger. For a second, I thought she entertained the idea of biting, but then she just nudged my hand, letting me scratch the back of her head.

"I love cats," I sighed. It was then that it hit me. Thinking of cats, and seeing how much Erik cared for Ayesha reminded me of my own cats, which reminded me that I was far from my home, from my own time, with no known way of ever getting back.

I felt the tears start up, but I didn't try to stop them. I couldn't.

"What is the matter?" Erik asked guardedly. He set Ayesha down, and took a step toward me, watching me.

I looked up at him, forcing myself to not drop into his arms. I knew it wouldn't help anything, so why bother? Turning to him for comfort wasn't going to get me home.

"I-I just realized," I said, sobbing - Gods, I _hate _crying, "I c-can't get h-home..."

_Erik_

She was crying. I didn't know what had happened, what I did. I could only guess she had just realized that she was stuck with a monster; a demon. I asked her, but my guess was wrong. The poor thing was homesick.

I felt a flash of jealousy, and the urge to push away emotion and tell her to stop her ridiculous tears and grow up crossed my mind, but I could not say such things. She was just a child. No more than sixteen or seventeen years of age, I would guess. And she could not go home. It was not so simple a matter as buying passage to America; she lived, from what she'd said, in another time. She was well and truly alone, now.

I understood that feeling. Having nowhere to turn to, no _one _to turn to. But that would not happen to her, no. I had become something I was not (the Angel of Doom) for the Khanum, I could surely do it for this lost, frightened girl.

_Stop crying, _I wanted to say. _I'll protect you. _But it was hard enough to dodge my habits, and instincts just to the point where I could touch her shoulder in an attempt to be comforting.

After a second, her sobs came harder, and she clung to my neck, and the situation became that much more forced and uncomfortable. But I _would _do this. I _would _make myself get used to this, for the sake of the child that, in her terror, and loneliness, had actually turned to _me. Me, _the demon, the monster, the bloody Devil's apprentice! I could not turn this little one away.

In a way, she reminded me very much of Reza. Oh, Reza.... I hope you understand that what I did was for you. But like Nadir's son, Destiny was easily excited, immensely appreciative of simple things, from her initial reaction to my library, the baritone, and Ayesha. She was smart, I could see it in her eyes, and the way she spoke.

"Erik?" she whispered after a while. Her face was streaked pink and wet, and her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, but she had stopped crying, and I could see the gears of her mind working toward something. "What year is it?"

"Eighteen-seventy-eight, seventy-nine in a few days," I told her. "Will you be alright now?"

She nodded, and smiled at me, though there was something sad in her eyes that _wasn't _homesickness. It almost seemed as though she..... _knew _something.

"Yeah," she sighed, and that strange light left her eyes as she wiped away the tears. "I'm good." She looked at Ayesha, and smiled wryly. "You know, I always wished my cats were Siamese, or something. Ever since I saw 'Lady and the Tramp'. Granted, Siamese cats were the villains there, but I know better."

I looked at her. God, she was strange, and yet, endearing. She seemed to truly put her whole heart into things (she certainly was enjoying petting Ayesha; as she rubbed my cat beneath her ears, the little creature purred, and raised her head, her eyes closed, tongue sticking out slightly, and Destiny laughed lightly, smiling, sadness forgotten).

Though she spoke of such odd things. From her time, I supposed.

_Me_

This was incredible. I was still sad that I couldn't get home, but something told me I'd get back eventually, and that I should enjoy what I had here while I had it. So I did.

"Hey Erik?" I asked quietly, not wanting to be a bother. "If ever you're not busy, could you maybe either draw a map for me, or come exploring with me around the opera house?" I loved what I'd already seen of the place, I wanted to poke around the rest.

"If I find the time," he promised.

I grinned, and reached into my bag for something to do. The first thing my hand touched was my laptop, but I didn't really want to just whip that out and freak out Erik.

The more I heard him talk, the more I realized his voice wasn't so much Gerard Butler's, but more like Charles Dance's. The Charles Dance version had made me cry, the way Erik got sick in the end, and then his father shot him (the fact that Erik non-verbally told him to didn't make it any less sad).

I debated pulling out my DS, but I was enjoying Ayesha. She really liked belly rubs, and that brought a sort of bittersweetness; my kitty Ember used to think it was play-time when you rubbed her stomach.

I felt tears start to well again, but I forced them back, I still had that feeling that I should just enjoy what was happening now, and not worry. Maybe I would talk to Akai, my totem animal, a sweet, lovely male tabby cat who reminded me incredibly of Erik (voice sounded a lot like his, and all).

After a second, I felt the sewing kit I had with me. I grinned and pulled it out. Oh, how perfect was this! I pushed back a small giggle, and started sewing the piece. It was a violin over several music staffs, with the the words 'In Music, there is Harmony, in Harmony, there is Peace' on it.

That's what I did for the first few days; stitched, and got used to the lair. It had to be the coolest place I'd ever seen. It reminded me a lot of Jo's - a very good friend of the woman in charge of the Pagan class I'd been taking in my own time - basement, except rather than rustic, it was elegant, and there was no fairy stuff in it.

Erik had me start from the very beginning with the whole baritone thing, the moment I was comfortable. The first lesson, he explained all the parts of the baritone, and showed me the right way to blow air into the instrument. I already knew how to do that, but I wasn't going to complain. This was incredible.

That first lesson, I didn't even use the baritone, but that didn't matter. I was having too much fun learning from Erik. He was so cool. I think my being there made him feel really awkward, but he did try at least, to be nice. After lessons, he would play something, and I would curl up on the divan/couch thingy, and read something (usually Dickens, as that was one of the few books in English in all Erik's library), or draw in my sketch books.

At first, Ayesha would sit on the couch, just out of my reach. By the third day, though, she seemed to really be starting to like me. She'd sit, curled up against my leg, and pur when I scratched behind her ears.

I'd been in the lair about five days when Erik mentioned the subject of dress.

"You'll need clothes that fit in, my dear," he said simply, looking just over my shoulder. Poor guy. This must have been a really awkward moment. _I _thought it was.

He didn't say 'my dear' because of any great affection, though. He was just formal (I'd beged him not to call me mademoiselle, because that was just so different from what I was used to. And despite my attempts - because, let's face it; the guy was nice, and I wanted to get to know him - to get him to just call me Destiny, he insisted on proper formalities. Annoying chivalry...).

"A friend of mine will be meeting me tomorrow," he explained. "I'll give you money and you will go with him to buy whatever you like."

I grinned, and had to fight the urge to hug him. I knew it made him uncomfortable, and I didn't want to be too annoying.

"Thanks!" I grinned. "Not much, though, please."

Erik shook his head.

"As much as you need. I have plenty."

Oh, the awkward vibes in that moment! Poor Erik. He really wasn't used to houseguests. But I was grateful, though a bit uncomfortable with the possibility of having a fair amount of money on me at once.

"Well, thanks," I muttered, smiling. "Is the friend Nadir? Or Jules?" I asked before I could stop myself. Erik gave me a really weird look - well, I suppose it was weird, his eyes got big, and the had this really shocked, rather wary light in them. "Remember, I'm from the future," I reminded him. He nodded, and his eyes got narrow as he studied me.

His mask was a bit unnerving. I knew he felt he needed it. I knew what was beneath it. I knew he would not be pleased if I took it off, or tried to get him to remove it himself, but _Gods! _It was spooky that I could never see exactly what kind of look he was giving me. I wanted to know for certain if he were angry, or about to burst our laughing and or crying.

"You will go with the Daroga, yes," he replied.

"Does he know any english?"

Erik nodded, said 'Enough,' and I grinned, sagging back slightly. I hadn't been sure if language would be a problem; in the fanfics I'd read, I'd never heard of the Persian knowing any English at all.

When he stepped away, I went back to drawing. Glancing from the page to Ayesha, I decided she was what I'd draw. I'm not really that good at cats, but as long as she didn't move, it might end up looking passable.

For once, I managed to actually make myself take a while. The next time I looked up, the clock said it was ten o'clock. I wasn't sure if it was morning or night, but I felt a bit tired, so I decided to go to bed (apparently, Erik had a third, smaller bedroom in his neat-o house, which was where I slept).

"Night Erik," I muttered, yawning, and walking toward the door. I turned, and smiled at him. "See you tomorrow."

He nodded, and turned back to what he was doing, and I left the room, sketch book in one arm, and blinking, a little sleepy.

The room he'd given me was really great. It was small, but exactly what I had always dreamed of. It was a darker room, with rich, deep colors, and though it was much simpler than what I believed the Louis-Phillipe room looked like (I hadn't seen it yet), but it was certainly grander than my theme-less room back home.

The walls were a deep, deep red, and the lower half was covered in a beautiful, but simple wood. The bed was plain, and dark with blood-red sheets. There was a small desk next to it, and a little light on one corner of it. There was also a smallbureau in a corner. My bag was on the bed, and I flopped next to it. I set it on the floor, and rifled through it for my nightgown (I still thanked the Gods that I'd had the odd thought to put my nightgown, which was long, and made of cotton, and really the under-dress of a medieval costume, in it). Pulling that on, I let the bag drop again, and crawled under the blankets. They were puffy and warm, and I sighed, snuggling deeper and closing my eyes.

Tomorrow, I was going to go wandering through Paris with the Persian. How often did a person get to say _that?!_

XxX  
Yep, next chapter finally done. Sorry it took so long. Hope you guys liked it, and please review.


	3. Shopping in Paris, and Falling Asleep to

Shopping in Paris, and Falling Asleep to Erik's Pretty Music  
XxX

I woke up, I think early. Stretching, I sat up, and looked around my room. It was the same as last night, but I was excited. I hadn't been able to shop in Paris in my own time, now I could, and I couldn't wait!

I slid out of bed, took off my nightgown, and slid into a pair pants, and my Tinkerbell hoodie (I always kept that with me, and the pants were part of the change of clothes the leaders of my student group had insisted stay in our carry-on in case we lost our luggage somehow). It didn't necessarily fit in with this time, but it was all I had.

Walking out into the main room, I jumped. Erik was standing there, a light blue, plain dress in his hands. He held it out to me.

"Wear this," he instructed. "You won't stand out so much."

I grinned, and held up the dress. It was simple, but beautiful. The sleeves were long, and the neckline reserved (nothing I would ever think of objecting to; I wasn't really into showing a ton of skin around the chest). The color was a light powdery blue, and it was thick, clearly warm, and meant for winter.

"Thanks," I muttered, still looking at the dress. "Where and _how, _though, did you get it?"

Erik shrugged.

"Another associate of mine," he said cryptically. "I had him purchase it the other day. After all, if you wish to stay, I would recommend you fit in."

I smiled gratefully, and walked back to my room, hoping the dress fit.

My mind was going around and around, and it just wouldn't stop. First I'd been taken in by Erik, the _Phantom of the Opera, _and now, I was meeting _Nadir, _the freakin' Persian! Who would I meet next; Christine?

Ayesha nudged the door open slightly, and I moved to close it as she hopped up onto the bed. She seemed to have figured out that I meant no harm to her place in Erik's affections, and had been really nice to me lately. I scratched her head, then under her chin, and turned back to getting dressed.

I wriggled into the material, and tried to do up the clasps in the back, but I couldn't on my own. Holding it closed for the sake of modesty (shame so many girls in my own time no longer have that particular personality trait), I tiptoed to the door, and opened it a crack, sticking my head out.

Erik's back was to me, and he stood rigidly, hands clasped behind his back, obviously waiting for me.

"Hey, um.... Erik?" I called out quietly, a bit uncomfortable asking this (he was a fifty-something-year-old man, from the late nineteenth century. They still wore corsets, for the love of the Gods! (That, in itself, reminded me of the fact that I'd be expected to wear one by the rest of the world, so that was not going to be fun...)), but I needed help. "Can, uh.... I can't get the clasps in the back," I finished lamely. My face felt hot, and I could just imagine that it was bright red. "Can you help, please?"

Erik turned, and looked at me. Beneath the mask, his eyes were slightly wide. But he swallowed, and motioned with a graceful, pale hand for me to come forward. I walked over to him, and held back my hair, turning to face away from him, and he carefully closed the back of my dress.

"Thanks," I muttered, and when I turned back around, I could see that his ears were slightly pinked. This only made me blush harder.

Erik nodded, and looked over me, eyes appraising.

"The dress suits you, child," he observed. I smiled, and lowered my head, the way I always did when someone complemented me (I get embarrassed easily by any praise).

I jumped when alarm bells started ringing, and laughed lightly when I realized what it was.

"Come," Erik said, walking toward the door. "My friend is here to escort you."

"Sweet," I muttered, following him out to meet the daroga.

Nadir was really cool, despite the fact that he and I could barely understand each other. He didn't speak much English, and I spoke less French and no Persian (something I decided to fix as soon as I got back, if Erik would help me).

We walked into one store, and I was immediately drawn by a deep red dress (it was almost black, it was so deep red). It was a bit more formal; off the shoulder with a sweeping neckline, and a beautiful applique of black silk and lace in the shape of a rose. The sleeves were edged with black lace, and that same lace covered the skirt. I checked the price, and found it a lot less than I'd expected, smirking as I took it off the hanger, and continued toward the simple, every-day dresses.

I knew I didn't want anything as fancy as the purple dress for daily wear. I rifled through the racks until I found a few that looked like they'd fit, and that I thought were me. There was a red one which I loved, and a green one I thought would be perfect in the summer (if I was here that long, though I chose to buy it, just in case). At the end of the rack, I found a blue one, a yellow one, and a simple copper-ish colored one.

Smiling at my ability to find bargains (they were all lower priced because they weren't the height of fasion, but that hardly bothered me), I wandered to the back to try the dresses on. The purple one fit the best, and though the green one was a bit big in the chest, I was fairly sure I'd fill into it eventually.

"Corset," Nadir said after I'd come out again. "You need corset."

I nodded, internally groaning. I remembered the incident with the cinch at that medieval fair in Tuxedo, New York, and that made me cringe. The cinch had been really tight, and corsets, I'd heard, were even tighter.

But I couldn't appear immoral or improper. So I wandered off to the underclothes section, and took a couple larger corsets that would be just a little tight when fully closed (to hell with it; I was not about to kill my ability to breathe!).

After that store, Nadir showed me where a shoe store was (all I had were my Sailor Jerry Converse, and I was very glad that my dress was long enough to cover those). I bought a pair of black shoes. They were a simple suede, but nicer than most shoes in my own time.

"Hey, Nadir?" I asked, looking up at the Persian. He was a good deal taller than me. Not as tall as Erik, but still a head or more larger. "Can we go somewhere to eat?"

"If mademoiselle wish," he said slowly, still trying to make his English understandable (the thick Middle-Eastern accent made it harder to figure out what he was saying).

"Cool!" I grinned, tugging gently at his arm, and pointing to a little cafe.

I'd decided over the course of the day (it was after one o'clock when we got to the cafe), that I really liked Nadir. He was cool. Friendly, though a bit wary, and protective. He listened when I spoke (which was more than I could say for most of my adult relatives), and he was honest with me (I'd found this awkward teal and red dress. I wasn't really serious about buying it, I just thought it was so gaudy it was worth the time to try it on and laugh. And rather than simply not comment, Nadir told me straight up that it was God-awful. Exactly my sentiments).

After lunch, we kept walking. There was a store that sold cloaks, and even with the thick dress, it _was_ a bit chilly. So Nadir and I wandered in.

"I like this one," I muttered, inspecting a brown one. It reminded me of my old one back home (though, that one was in a medieval style, and this was more toward the late 1800s). I wrapped it around my shoulders, and looked in a mirror. "It doesn't cost much. What do you think?"

"It, is a nice," he replied, still slow and deliberate so I could understand. He was a lot more patient than the fanfics and Leroux's book made him out to be. "Suits mademoiselle... very good."

I smiled, and took it off to buy it, putting it back on as soon as we left the store. It was a warm, fluffy material (probably that cheap because of the color), and really soft. I wasn't sure what it was made of, but it was very nice.

People shouldn't price items based on looks so much, that was my opinion. Instead, they should base it on function. Sure, the cloak wasn't the prettiest, but it was very warm, and snugly. I liked it.

On our way back to the opera house, I couldn't help but laugh and skip. Paris in 1879 was beautiful, with the snow pure white, all the carriages rolling by, and the beautiful horses clip-clopping along. Smiling, and giggling almost uncharacteristically, I spun in a circle, looking and sounding like a tourist. I heard people mutter 'American' to each other, but that was fine. I didn't care. I was _proud _to be American, darn it!

Nadir led me down the Rue Scribe, the same way we'd come out earlier. With six dresses and my Converse under my arms, I followed Nadir back down through the dark, doing my best to commit the way to memory, in case I ever decided to get out and take a walk again.

_Nadir_

This Destiny girl was a kind thing. Erik had warned me of her hyperactive tendencies, and while I could see where they might be a problem in the wrong setting, I found them endearing.

Her eyes were a soft brown that lit up at just about everything. I supposed she'd never been to Paris before now.

But there was the matter of Erik stating that the girl was from another time. Had he not assured me of the proof by showing me one of her items when he came to speak with me about it, I would have thought he were joking, or had gone mad. However, he had been right.

She bought five plain, inexpensive dresses, and one that was a bit fancier, though still not costly, obviously conscious of the money, though Erik had given her ample. It seemed someone had taught the girl to be frugal, and not spend more than she had to.

On the way back to the opera, I watched her laugh, and spin in wonder. She was indeed a strange girl, and I could easily see myself or Erik exasperated if she tried to run off. Though my friend would never admit it, I believed he was already becoming fond of the young mademoiselle, which was something I had not seen since Erik had met my Reza, so many years ago.

When we reached the opera house, I led Destiny down the Rue Scribe to the secret door. Looking around carefully to make sure no one else was watching, I slid the key into the lock, and the door opened.

"Wow," she breathed, looking into the darkness ahead. "How long does it take to get to the house from here?"

"It should take us about an hour and thirty minutes," I replied.

Destiny nodded, and when I went into the tunnel, I could hear her footsteps behind me.

She didn't speak as we walked down through the dark, though I could hear her footsteps behind me. They were light, but sharp, obvious without sounding suspicious or obnoxious.

In the dim light of the lantern I'd lit five feet into the passage, I looked at her again. Her hair was a deep brown in color, like her eyes, and just about as straight as a board. There really was nothing physically special about her, and yet, her face shown with her true emotions. I could see in her eyes eagerness to return to Erik, and excitement, wonder and awe. She really, truly liked being here.

_Me_

Erik met us after a few moments of standing by the lake, and Nadir said goodbye there. I got in the boat as he walked away, and smiled up at Erik.

Reaching into a pocket, I pulled out what remained of the money Erik had given me (almost half), and held out my hand.

"Here's the change," I said softly. "Thank you for letting me buy these."

He took the money back and hid it somewhere (I'm not sure where; one moment it was in his hands, and the next moment it was gone. Freakin' magician; he was so cool. I was going to have to learn how to do such things).

Back in the lair, I went back to my room, and put the dresses and cloak in the small closet.

I jumped when I heard the first notes of a pretty, haunting tune, but when I realized it was Erik playing, I smiled.

_Gods, Desi! Why so jumpy?_

I walked back out into the main room, and the music was pulling me into something of a trance. I hugged my arms as beautiful images, both heartwarming, and heartbreaking wandered through my mind. After a little while, I managed to come back to myself, and shook my head to clear it, wandering over to the couch, and the book of Charles Dickens that sat in it's place on the shelf nearby.

Ayesha was laying on top of the piano. Her eyes were closed, and she purred softly. This was such a peace moment. Perfect for reading.

Sighing quietly, I opened the book ('Nicholas Nickleby'), and read.

Suddenly, she jumped down onto the keys, and I cringed. Ooh, that was a bad idea with any version of Phantom.

But Erik didn't get mad. Instead, he laughed lightly, and pulled Ayesha into his arms.

"My darling," he scolded light-heartedly. I could almost see the smile on his face in my mind's eye.

He pet her for a little while, then set her down, and began to play again.

I looked up at the clock a few hours later, and saw that it was one o'clock. Morning or night I couldn't say, but it was one, and I _was _starting to feel a little sleepy.

_I'll finish off this chapter, then go to sleep, _I decided, yawning.

_Erik_

I played as long as my tiring body would allow. Over the last week I'd gotten perhaps five hours of sleep, and while I could usually tolerate such conditions, I had been feeling a bit out of sorts today, which was why I hadn't followed after Destiny and daroga. That damned pressure was back in my chest, and my left hand was numb again.

It was perhaps three (I believe in the morning, but I could not be sure) when I stopped playing. The room was completely silent, no faint sound of flipping pages, no little sigh of contentment.

Turning, I found Destiny curled on one end of the couch, like always. This time, however, she was sleeping soundly, the book she'd been reading lying open beneath a hand. Her other arm rested on the arm of the couch, beneath her head. Strands of her dark hair fell over her face, partially obscuring her sleeping features from view.

I couldn't let her spend the night on a couch when her bed was just in the other room. Standing, I walked over to her, and took her in my arms. She was not exactly light (though I would not have said she was heavy, either; rather, she was a noticeable weight im my arms, not at all wholly uncomfortable.

_No, Erik, _I scolded myself. _Do not go there. There is no possibility that the child would ever see you as anything more than a means of protection and shelter. Just because she is grateful to you, and shows it with displays of affection, does not mean she likes you. In fact, I dare say you frighten her quite a bit._

Shaking my head, I walked toward her room. With one foot, I pushed open the door, and walked to her bed. Silent, and bright red (this was entirely improper, but I knew she would want the dress kept nice), I took off her outer dress, and, head turned to protect her modesty, pulled the covers over her gently.

She looked younger, and more innocent when she slept, I noticed. Her straight hair was all over the place, and I was glad it was still connected to her head, or I would have to ask that she pick it all up.

Once the blankets were over her, she shifted about, sprawling beneath the sheets, before curling into a tight ball with a murmur and a small smile.

Turning away, I walked out of the room, ready, myself, for sleep for a change.

XxX  
Um-hm. Chapter three is here! I hope you all like it. Review, please!

Erik: Really. The more you review, the sooner I'll be able to leave and go home.

Oh, Erik, do you really not like it at my house?

Erik: ... no comment...

Anyway, review, please!


	4. Of Masks and Spiders

Of Masks and Spiders  
XxX

_Erik _

I had been composing since the previous night. The song was something that had come to me since Destiny had arrived. It had been a week since she'd gone shopping with Nadir, and she seemed more happy and content than ever.

Strange, almost inconceivable, that _anyone _could be happy in the company of an aging monster such as myself.

And yet, there she was, in her room with paper and a pencil, drawing, well, something. I had no idea what, after all.

Her scream startled me, and the chord, which should have sounded beautiful, came out jarringly hideous.

"Erik, Erik!" she cried. "Hurry, come here!"

I ran to the small bedroom she stayed in, pushing open the door, wondering what had happened.

"What is it, child?" I asked her, glancing around for the source of her cries. "What is the matter?"

"Look!" she whispered, her voice quiet and awed. She pointed into a corner of the room, smiling as her eyes grew soft.

I let my gaze follow her pointing finger to a corner of the room, where two wolf spiders huddled together in a web. They were clearly mates.

"Isn't that _sweet?!?" _she breathed, voice hushed as she crouched before the pair of arachnids. "Wolf spiders mate for life, I heard."

She was not repulsed! Good God, she found it 'sweet'! Just by looking at her, I could see that she was fascinated by the two spiders in the corner, and I was astounded by the level of compassion in her voice when she spoke next.

"Erik? Could you get me a jar and a piece of paper, please? I don't wanna leave the little guys alone. Ayesha might get them."

I could see in her eyes, and hear in her voice, sincerity. She was neither afraid nor disgusted. How strange! A female child who _liked _spiders!

Smiling to myself, I left the room to find a jar and a sheet of paper. I knew exactly what she planned to do when she asked for the items, and for that, she became just that much more tolerable.

I really was beginning to like this girl, who had so suddenly dropped into my life, and stirred up my peaceful solitude with her love of spiders, and her fearlessness of my mask.

_Me_

I'd been drawing when I saw the spiders in the corner. Slowly, I got off the bed - I didn't want to chase the little things off - and knelt down near them to see better.

They looked like wolf spiders. The male was grey with an orange-ish patch on it's face, and the female was plain brown. But they looked so sweet together.

I called and yelled for Erik, hoping he would hear me and come. Much as I liked the spiders (I had never feared them, and at home, whenever I had to kill one, I always felt horrible afterward; after all, spiders have a right to live. They don't go around looking to hurt people, so why not just let them be?), they couldn't stay in the house. Ayesha might get them, or they might bite someone.

When Erik showed up, I pointed to the two spiders, looking from him back to them, watching as the male took an almost protective position in front of the female.

It was while Erik was gone getting a jar and some paper, that I noted the many babies on the female's back.

"Aw!" I squeaked, looking up with a smile as the door opened, and Erik walked in, jar and paper in hand.

"They have babies!" I grinned, pointing.

Erik smiled - at least, it looked like he did, the way his eyes narrowed and became happy - and handed me the items. Carefully, so I wouldn't hurt the spiders, or their young, I brought the jar down over them, and slid the paper underneath.

I went outside as fast as I could, determined to help the little spiders. Carefully, I set them down and removed the jar, gently shaking them off the paper.

"Bye!" I called softly as the little things scurried away. They were so _cute! _"Stay out of trouble, little guys!"

Standing, I turned and looked up at Erik.

"It would have been a shame if I'd had to kill them," I muttered. "Sometimes, in my time, they'd get into the house, or at school, where there wasn't a quick way outside, and I had to do it. I always _hate _killing spiders. They're just so... _cute! _I saw a picture of a wolf spider once, and the two big central eyes made it adorable!"

I couldn't tell what Erik was thinking (he was probably a bit put off by my awkward rambling about the cuteness of _spiders, _of all things, but I couldn't help it; spiders _were _cute, in my opinion), and I wasn't sure what look was on his face, but there was something in his eyes, that was almost, well, warm.

I gasped, when I remembered that we were, actually, outside his home; a perfect time to go exploring the opera house!

"Erik, wanna go exploring?!" I asked, excited at the idea of seeing all the trap doors, and secret passage ways. Maybe we could even scare the tutus off some 'ballet rats'.

Erik just shrugged, eyes smiling, and started walking toward the boat. With one hand, he held it steady, the other, he offered to me to help me in. I doubted I'd need help, but it was a nice offer, so I took his hand, hiked the hem of my dress up a bit, and stepped into the boat, plopping down on the middle seat.

Erik hopped in behind me, and pushed off the dock with a long pole. I had the strange idea that this was what a gondola ride in Italy at night would feel like (my brain always did come up with odd things).

"What would you wish to see first, my dear?" he asked.

I shook my head and looked up at him, smiling.

"You've gotta call me Destiny. All my _other_ friends use my real name, why should you be any different?"

_Erik_

'_All my _other _friends....'_

Could that _possibly _mean, that, in her eyes, I was a _friend? _Might she actually count me among the people she cared about? This gentle, pretty child, who defended spiders, and ignored my mask in favor of looking at _me, _rather than it? It seemed almost impossible.

But, there again, it seemed _anything _was possible with young Destiny. Her eyes pleaded silently for me to be like those other friends whom I knew nothing about, and use her name, to drop all pretenses of formality, and oh, I wanted to. Barely a fortnight, and already she was starting to feel like the daughter I had never had, nor would ever have.

"Alright, then," I said, smiling behind the porcelain of my mask, and for a moment, I wondered what her reaction to my real face would be... _No. Don't go there, you'll only frighten her away. _"What do you want to see first, _Destiny?"_

_Me_

_Dehstienee...._

Good Gods my name sounded pretty in a French accent. And it felt almost, _fatherly, _the way he'd said it. Maybe he _did _like having me around...

Soon, the boat bumped the opposite shore, and I couldn't have been any more excited if _Frodo Baggins _had shown up.

"Can we go to the roof?" I asked eagerly. I'd always thought Paris was beautiful, and I wanted another areal view (the day before we went to the opera house, we'd gone to the Eifel Tower, and I'd gone to the second floor, and looked out at Paris. Of course, it would look a lot different now than in my time).

Erik nodded, and led me up and up.

When we came to the beginning of the rafters, far above his trapdoors, I couldn't help myself, and I began to run, higher, and higher, and with more excitement than ever. I think Erik was enjoying this, too, because when I yelled back that he couldn't catch me, that happy light danced into his eyes again, and he came running after me.

Yelping and laughing, I kept going up the stairs, around corners, more excited than anything. This was so _cool! _I was playing _tag _in _the Paris opera house, _with _the Phantom of the Opera! _What a fantasy-turned-real _this _was!

Finally, the stairs ended, and up ahead there was a door, pushing through it, I found myself out on the roof, looking out over all Paris.

Panting, I walked toward the edge a bit, and let my eyes wander (I did not look straight down, as I knew we were very high up, and I didn't want to think about the fall - or the sudden stop at the end...).

"Whoa," I breathed, turning my head to see more in each direction. Closing my eyes, I could feel the wind on my face, and it was cool and gentle.

It was sunset, and I realized that this area of the roof faced west. It faced my home (what _would _be my home, in another hundred-and-something years), and I suddenly felt homesick again.

I heard Erik behind me, also breathing heavily.

"My dear...." he rasped.

I turned when I heard the soft _thud._ Erik was on his knees, breath hissing in and out, right hand gripping his left shoulder so hard that his knuckles were white.

For a moment, I stood there, shocked, confused (What had happened to him? What had hurt my new friend so badly?), unable to think of what was wrong.

Then it all came back; in ever fanfic I'd read based on Susan Kay's book, by almost the time he met Christine, Erik had either heart attacks, or seizures. I'd even read a review of the book that said he had a heart attack when Christine unmasked him.

"_SHIT!" _I gasped, remembering. How could I have been so _stupid?!?! _We had been running quite a lot, from the first level of rafters to the _freakin' roof! _This was _all _my fault! He was having one of those scary heart attacks that were supposedly in Kay's book, _because of me!_

I ran back to him, and grabbed his arm, hoping there would be something I could do. His breath kept hitching, and it sounded like he was suffocating under the mask.

I hated myself then. _Why _had I forgotten the heart attack thing?!?! Was I _really _that stupid?

There was only one thing I knew I had to do; his mask had to come off, _now._

_Erik_

I chased after her, smiling as she laughed and occasionally glanced over her shoulder at me. I had never had _fun _like this. This girl, Destiny, she was unconcerned. She had no care that I was a monster. She treated me like I was anyone else; wanted me to be her _friend!_

The higher we got, the more I was reminded of the fact that I _was _fifty (I knew how old I was, because I could not forget that horrid day when I first saw my face. That day, 1837, when I was five. That put me around fifty). My breath came harder, and I knew I should stop, but I had no desire to. I had never _played, _with anyone before.

I watched her fly through the door to the roof, and followed after her, only when I stopped to watch her, did I notice the pounding pressure in my chest.

I fully intended to call out to her, say that we should wait a while before walking around. But I barely managed to choke out 'my dear,' before the pressure exploded into pain, and I fell on my knees, clutching at my left shoulder.

I heard Destiny turn, heard her scream, then her fast footsteps as she came back to my side. I felt her kneel beside me, and grab my arm.

I could barely breathe - damn my face that I needed a mask to hide behind (it obstructed my breathing, at times) - but I would rather deal with that than show her the horror of my face. I would lose her, and I knew it. I would lose her forever.

What happened next; horror, utter horror! Her small, thin hands, with those unfittingly short nails, came up and reached for the ties of my mask. I had to stop this!

As quickly as I could, I reached up, and grabbed her wrist, praying that I would be strong enough to hold her back.

"Leave it!" I hissed. How could she want to remove it now? How could her curiosity make her turn on me, after the last two weeks when I'd thought it did not matter?

"Erik," she whispered, and I could see the tears in shining in her deep brown eyes. "Y-you can't breathe. _Please _let me take it off! It _has _to come off!"

I shook my head, pulling her hand down, away from my mask, the one thing that kept her ignorant of the ultimate horror.

"I-I'll be fine," I gasped, struggling to keep from passing out. I couldn't let her remove my mask. That would destroy whatever had been built up between us in the last two weeks (I had not felt this paternal affection I felt toward her since... well, since Reza).

"Erik," she said again. "You're hurt! You _can't breathe! _Please, trust me! I'm not afraid of what's under the mask! I swear to you, it won't change a thing. You're still my friend!"

I raised my eyes to look up at her - my head was too heavy - and I could see the same sincerity in her eyes that had been there when she spoke of helping the spiders.

Trembling - whether from the cold, the pain in my chest, or fear, I did not know - I nodded, and braced myself for the inevitable disaster that would follow, with barely a hope that things might turn out different this time.

XxX  
I know it's shorter, but I wanted a cliffhanger. I hope you all liked this, and review, please!


	5. It's Okay

It's Okay  
XxX

_Me_

The sight of Erik's face really was something. Like in the books, it was skull-ish, with the skin so thin - translucent, actually - and stretched so tight, I could see the pulsing blue veins, and every bone. He didn't have a nose, his lips were twisted, and looked half-rotted, like the rest of his skin. And yet, when I gently touched the side of his face to keep him conscious and looking at me, his skin was smooth and soft like suede. His eyes were a pretty, cat-like yellow color, sunk deep in his head.

It really was kind of creepy, and had I not known who he was, I probably would have been scared (he could easily be mistaken for a zombie - in fact, I'd seen some pictures on deviantart where he _did _look like a zombie). As it was, I couldn't feel fear. I just fought to hold back tears at the sight of the nasty couple of scars on his face, near his ears and hair-line that looked like they'd never healed properly.

I wondered how anyone could be cruel enough to hurt him; wasn't his face enough (he'd been rejected countless times, I knew, because of it, and he'd be rejected soon again because of his face (which really ticked me off; appearances shouldn't matter))?

"Erik, are you gonna be all right?" I asked, looking at him, and trying to hold back the tears. I was scared for him. What if I changed things enough to where he died before ever meeting Christine?

He nodded faintly, and I helped him sit back against a statue's base.

He was still gasping, and somehow, I remembered something I'd read in one of those herb books I loved to read (don't ask me why I liked herbal medicine; no one I knew ever had need of it); I'd been thumbing through one when, for some reason, I stopped and read the section about heart attacks (again, don't ask me why, because I have no idea). It had said something about keeping the person comfortable, be calm and reassuring, and loosen tight clothing around the neck.

First thing to do; get that cravat off him.

"Erik?" I asked as softly as I could. "Is the pain letting up?"

"A l-little," he whispered.

I hated how uneven and fractured his breathing was. I hated that I'd done this. He was hurting and it was all my fault.

_Stop it, stop it! You can't think about that right now. You have to help him._

"Good," I muttered, pulling away the cravat, once I'd untied it. Reaching behind me, I picked up his mask and held it out for him. "If it helps, you can hold onto this, but _don't _put it back on. You need to be able to breathe, Erik. And don't worry; I'm not gonna run away anytime soon."

_Erik_

Somehow, the reassurance that I would not be abandoned again was more comforting than her gentle hand pushing back my hair, and helping me stay upright against the statue. The pain continued to pulse in my chest, in time with the beating of my heart, but it was fading, and I had her to thank for keeping me calm.

It dawned on me, that perhaps I did not have much time left. Perhaps, in a few years, I would be dead, and out of this hell.

No. It wasn't quite Hell anymore; for the last two weeks it hadn't been hell, because a young girl-child was strong enough to show compassion to a demon, and stay with him when he needed her most.

My vision began to darken, and I knew there was no way I'd be able to make it back home right now. The pain was too much, and the blackness too thick and oppressive. I tried not to think of it, but the pain pervaded everything, until all that was left was blackness.

_Me_

Erik passed out.

One second, he was sitting there, trying to get his breathing under control, and the next, his eyes were closed, and I didn't know what to do. At least he was still breathing.

It wasn't good for him to stay up here in the cold for too long, I knew that, but there was nothing I could do. He may have been skeletal thin, but he was much taller than me, and obviously weighed more (after all, he was a grown man, and I was just a teenager).

There was nothing else I could do, so I pulled one edge of his cloak over his opposite shoulder, and pressed myself against his left side, hoping to keep him warm - his hand was _freezing!_

As I sat there with Erik, I could feel the tears that I had somehow managed to hold back start to fall. This was _horrible. _This was _not _what I had imagined when I begged him to take me exploring.

In all the little scenarios that had filtered through my head, we had ended up sitting on the edge of the roof, or back in the house, with Erik playing the piano. This was _not _supposed to happen!!

And what if he _died?!? _What if something like this happened _again, _and.....

_Shut up, Desi! Stop thinking like that; you've probably saved his life, keeping him calm and removing that tight cravat. _

I picked up the discarded 1800s version of a tie and turned it over in my hand, wrapping it loosely around my own neck.

_Wow, these things _are_ tight! _The ends were barely long enough to tie around my neck.

Setting it back down, I looked at Erik. He was pale, and I could hear his breaths, still trying to return to normal, whistling in and out of the hole where his nose should have been. There was a distinctive wheeze in each breath which, I was relieved to discover, was fading steadily, and I hoped, wherever his mind had taken him, that he'd managed to escape the pain he'd been in.

I watched the sun sink lower in the sky, and wondered what was happening in my own time. No doubt by now everyone thought I was dead. No word, no sign. The People to People guys had surely called my family, who would definitely call my friends. So yeah, I was pretty sure everyone thought I was dead.

Which meant my _mother _thought I was dead. That was a sad thought. My mom and I had always been so close, and if she thought I was dead, that would crush her. I hoped she didn't do anything rash, because, well, obviously I wasn't dead, I was just stuck in 1879 Paris, France with the Phantom of the Opera.

The clouds that had dotted the sky earlier were gone now, and the stars shone down on me and Erik, clear and cold. They were distant and beautiful, and I wished they provided warmth like the summer sun. The roof was metal, and stone, and absolutely _freezing. _I couldn't really feel my butt anymore.

Not that it mattered, though; I hardly noticed. My main worry was Erik. Everything I'd ever read in a medical book that involved pneumonia (once again, do not ask me why I have such an odd mind. I've never figured it out) said that it, and illnesses like it, were more easy to contract when a person's health was already compromised. I couldn't afford - the _both _of us couldn't afford - for him to get seriously sick. That could screw up everything.

We had to get off the roof, that I was sure of. But I couldn't carry him. Muttering a quiet 'I'm sorry for this,' I stood, and grabbed him beneath the arms, carefully dragging him back toward the door.

The thought crossed my mind briefly that anyone who saw this would probably think I'd committed a murder, but, of course, there _was _no one there, and Erik needed to get inside fast.

Inside the opera house wasn't much warmer, but at least there was no wind, and no snow. But he was absolutely _frigid. _I rubbed his hands and huddled close to him, anything to help him get warm.

I didn't sleep that night. I didn't even get tired. I just sat there with Erik, praying I didn't screw things up too badly, and that he'd be okay.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, wiping quickly at my eyes when the tears started again. Erik may not have been awake right now, but I still needed to be strong, just in case.

I wondered what my mom was doing now. She was probably crying, sitting in the double recliner in my room, holding my copy of 'The Phantom of the Opera', the Gaston Leroux one, since the Kay book was in my bag, many floors down and under the ground.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that I was laying on my bed, curled beneath the blankets, just laying there, too lazy to get up before nine in the morning, despite being wide awake.

I almost reached for my DS when I realized I was only imagining my home around me.

Tears made my vision blur, and I couldn't help it. I clung to Erik's arm and sobbed. I wanted to go home. I wanted this all to be in the past. I wanted my mother.

One of my tears dropped onto the back of Erik's hand, and I saw his bony fingers twitch. I heard him groan faintly, and turned to look at him, just as his eyes fluttered open.

I smiled slightly, and wiped away the tears on my face.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, slowly maneuvering so that I was standing, and he was still sitting up. Erik still looked really weak, and I was a bit surprised when he didn't fall over.

"Better," he said quietly.

I nodded, the smile returning. Looking around, I went back to the door, and opened it to try and get a feel for the time.

The sun was well up. The sky was a clear, icy blue.

This was bad. It meant that there would be people in the opera house. It meant that we stood a higher chance of being caught.

"It's day," I muttered, returning to Erik's side.

"We should get back," he murmured, and looking at him, I could see that he was weaker than I'd thought.

"I'll help," I offered, sliding under his left arm, and helping him pull himself up.

Erik let out a choked cry when I started to stand with him from his left side, and just about collapsed on the floor. Frightened, I knelt beside him.

"Erik, are you okay?!?" I asked worriedly, hoping, praying I hadn't done any more damage. "What is it?"

"Hurts... to.... move my..... arm..." he whispered, jaw clenched tightly.

Nodding, I slipped around to his right, and helped him up from there. Though he gasped, and shook, left hand weakly clawing at his chest, Erik managed to stay up. I was glad.

Helping him back to the house, though, was a bit awkward. He was at least a foot taller than me, and he was heavier than he looked. We stumbled a few times, and Erik had to rest before we'd even gotten to the first floor.

Carefully, I helped him sit on the stairs, and sat beside him, watching worriedly as he leaned weakly against the wall.

He was really starting to worry me. I had read in fanfics, and I knew from common knowledge that heart attacks made people feel weak for a while, but he'd slept from sunset to after sunrise. Shouldn't he be okay now?

Erik's breathing was shallow and heavy, and I could see his shoulders heaving in the dim light.

"Erik?" I asked gently, touching his shoulder. "Erik, what's wrong? You okay?"

He nodded shakily, and flashed me a weak smile.

"We should try to get going again," I said softly. "Someone's likely to find us up here."

He nodded again, and I shifted closer to help him.

"Alright," he sighed, leaning on me as I helped him up.

"Come on," I said, hoping I sounded encouraging. "We made good headway so far. We should be home, soon."

"Home?" Erik whispered, and I thought I heard hope in his voice, mixed with the fear, and shock, and surprise.

"Well, yeah," I replied, moving slowly so he wouldn't get tired again (it scared me that he couldn't seem to catch his breath still). "I mean, it's as close to home as anything else I'll find around here. You're kind to me, your cat likes me, you gave me a place to stay. That pretty much signifies home, to me. 'Cause home is wherever someone cares about you, and you care about them. Come on. I'm sure you know a shortcut, right?"

He nodded.

"The mirror," he panted. "I'll show you where."

_Erik_

She was too good for me. This girl was _worried _about me. My chest still ached, the tightness there persisted, and my breath kept catching in my throat, but Destiny thought of my house as _home._

Walking, even this slowly, exhausted me, but I was not about to ask to stop again. I had seen the look on her face the last time, the worry, and concern and tears. No, I would not make her cry. Not here, not now. Hopefully not ever.

I pointed to where the trigger for the mirror was when we reached the abandoned room, and she hit it, shifting to take on more of my weight as we waited for the path to open. When it did, she led me through, the mirror sliding closed easily behind us.

She spoke little, only telling me occasionally that everything would turn out all right. She asked if I had ever had an attack like this before. I had, twice during the Commune, and almost a third time in Persia (God, why did I think of Persia?!). She asked if I had any sort of medicine. Nadir had discovered me in the middle of the second attack, and had insisted on my taking a tonic that would help the pain, and calm my heart afterward.

"We're almost there," she said softly, and I realized we were in the third cellar, just above the torture chamber.

"The nail," I whispered (I could not speak louder, I did not have the breath to). "There's a nail.... in the wall. Low down. Press it."

She helped me over to a set, and I leaned against that while she knelt and pressed the nail. The trap door opened, and she turned to look up at me.

"The torture chamber?" she asked, one dark eyebrow raised. "Really? You seriously built one?"

I shrugged. To this day I have no idea why I did.

"Whatever," she sighed, standing and looking at me. "So, do we just jump down and find the next lever, or is there a secret pull-down ladder?"

"Jump," I muttered, knowing that this would not be comfortable. I was still in pain; jumping a good fifteen feet down would no doubt make matters worse. "Hang down and let go, though," I warned. "The drop is a bit deep."

She nodded, and sat down at the edge of the hole, turning over, and lowering herself down into the hole. A moment later, I heard the light thump of her landing, and her voice called up for me to come down, that she'd try to catch me.

I stumbled to the opening, and sat, gripping the edge as best I could. My left arm throbbed if I moved it, and my fingers were slow to respond. Obviously, I slipped, and tumbled through the trap-door. The next thing I knew, I was lying somewhat on top of Destiny, who was attempting to sit up, and help me stand at once.

"Erik, oh Gods, are you okay?!" Her voice was frantic, and when I looked at her, I could see tears in her eyes. "Come on," she continued, gently pulling me up, and bringing my right arm around her small shoulders. "Tell me where the switch is from this side, and we're home."

She'd said it again. 'Home'. I felt something in my chest that had nothing to do with my physical heart.

_She is a sweet thing. And not frightened by my face, not pitying me. She truly cares for me. Such a gentle little soul..._

I pointed to the mirror that hid the door to my house. At the bottom, there was a switch, and I instructed her to push it over. She did so, and in a moment, I found myself being lowered onto the couch in my room.

It dawned on me, in some part of my mind, that we were in my room. I did not particularly want her in here, but it was clear she did not intend to leave.

"Where is your medicine?" she asked me, glancing around the room. I pointed to the stand on which the samovar sat, next to my coffin. I saw her hesitate, shuddering slightly. She should not be seeing this. I did not want the girl to know I slept in a bloody coffin. That would surely driver her away.

But she just shook her head, and moved toward the samovar. After a moment of shifting through the things in the doors on the lower portion of the stand, she held up the vial that contained my medicine.

"This it?" she asked, turning to look at me. I nodded, and she returned to my side, pressing the bottle into my hand.

"Thank you," I sighed, taking a long drink from the bottle.

"It's okay," she told me, sitting beside me, and throwing a blanket over me (it was cold down here, and only now did I realize that I was shivering).

She stood after a moment, and walked from the room, assuring me that she would be back in a moment.

_Me_

I had to stay close to Erik tonight, in case something else happened. I went back to my room and changed into my nightgown. I returned to Erik's room with several blankets and a pillow, and started laying them out on the floor next to the couch.

"I'm staying with you," I explained. "If you need me, I'll be right here."

He looked down at me and smiled, and I realized he still wasn't wearing his mask. I grinned back at him, and lay down.

"Good night Erik," I whispered, gazing at the ceiling in the dark.

"Good night, Destiny," I heard him reply softly.

_It's okay, _I told myself, turning on my right side and curling up. _It's all okay, now. He's safe, and you're home. It's all okay._

XxX  
Chapter done. Next one is coming soon. I hope you all liked it.

If you review, Erik just may pose for anyone who wants to sketch him... SHIRTLESS!!!

Erik; I will _not!_

Oh, yeah?

*Erik is suddenly shirtless in front of tons of fan-artists.

Erik; eh-oh. *flees

Review, please!


	6. And That's How Dinner's Made

And That's How Dinner's Made  
XxX

_Me_

The next morning, I woke up first. Once my eyes adjusted to the gloom (there was actually a slightly luminescent quality to the walls down here), I could see Erik, still on the couch, still asleep. At first I was a bit nervous, but I could hear his breathing - finally deep and even, again - and that kept me from panicking.

Standing, I decided to go get my DS (it was too dark to sew, no way was I going to read '_Phantom' _around him, and I had a feeling most the things I did on my lap top - because they mostly pertained to him, and, by the standards of his time, were border-line, if not, pornographic - _might _just be enough to give poor Erik a _second _heart attack). I walked out of the room, and padded through the kitchen, into the drawing room, and into my room.

I still felt tears well up when I saw my bag, even though I'd been here almost three weeks, now. But I shook my head, and pushed back the thoughts of my own time, and fished out my DS. I hadn't played it since I'd gotten here, and I wanted to see how far I could get in my Pokemon game.

Erik was still asleep when I came back into the room with a candle so I could see what I was doing. In the little glowy circle of light, he still looked paler than usual, and there was an air of, pain, maybe, and exhaustion around him, and I thought for sure I'd break down and start sobbing.

A few tears did escape, but I stopped myself before I made any noise, and lay down on my little self-made sleeping bag, and turned on my DS.

I did my best to concentrate on my game, but I'd put it on silent so it wouldn't wake up Erik, and I could hear his breathing, a bit strained and panting, beside and above me.

Sitting up, I looked at him in the light of the candle, and bit my lip. His face was contorted in terror, and he curled in around himself, trembling.

He was having a nightmare, apparently. Poor Erik.

When he whimpered my name, I decided to damn the potential repercussions of waking someone suddenly, and out of a bad dream, and gently shook his shoulder.

"Erik," I called, hoping he would hear me. I kept my voice soft so he would start as little as possible. "Erik, come on. You're just dreaming. Wake up, Erik. Wake up."

His eyes snapped open, and he curled into a tight ball, shaking and pulling his knees in as close as he could. I'd never seen him like this - movies, plays, or reality - or read about him being like this, and it was sad.

He was terrified. The pretty yellow eyes were wide and teary, and he didn't seem to quite understand what was going on.

"Erik, it's okay," I said quietly. "It was just a dream. We're under the opera house, remember?"

His expression changed, and he pulled himself out of the little knot he'd drawn into, and sighed, head in his hands, legs crossed as he sat on the couch.

"I apologize for that, my dear," he whispered, still breathing a little heavily. I couldn't see his eyes from this angle, but I could bet they were sad, and lost.

"It's okay," I replied, sitting across from him and tucking my legs beneath me. "Everyone has nightmares. It happens."

He sighed and shook his head, then looked up at me.

"This is hardly something you would understand, Destiny, my dear.'

I gave him the 'really?' look, and rolled my eyes.

"You mean Persia? The gypsies? Giovanni and Lucianna? Your mom?"

It dawned on me, when his eyes filled with horror, and something very close to outright fury, that I probably shouldn't have mentioned all that.

"What do you know of my past?" he asked in a calm - frighteningly so - voice.

His tone was cool and placid, but there was fury in his eyes, and posture. It was no longer defeat, but predatory wrath, that would be unleashed any moment if I said the wrong thing.

"In my time," I reminded him, "there are books and shows about you, the deformed genius society cast out just because he was different. Your past differs in almost every one, but apparently, one author got it right. The book tells just about everything from your birth to... well..."

How could I finish that sentence? If I said 'your death,' he'd want an explanation. If I said _'the end,' _he'd want an explanation. And if I said nothing, he'd still want me to explain. Clasic situation of 'damned if you do, damned if you don't,' and boy, was I caught right in the middle. That, and I really didn't know exactly how it ended.

Fortunately, he got the idea that I couldn't/wouldn't answer, and let it go, sighing and dropping his head again.

"What _don't _you know about me?" he asked, scoffing. But there was a slight smile on his face, and I returned it.

_Erik_

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Did I want to talk about the horrors I'd committed on that nameless face from my dream? Or about what I had done against my will even when the blank face had become her's? Merely thinking of what I'd done to her, all the while trying my _damnedest _to stop, made my stomach clench. She was a good, gentle girl, and I would _never _hurt her.

I shook my head. I knew I could not speak of what I had done. I would lose her trust forever if I did.

"I can't," I said quietly, looking away. If I looked at her honestly concerned brown eyes any longer, I'd break and tell her everything, destroying the only positive relationship I'd ever had with a female; the only time someone had not balked at the sight of my mask, and left me to fend for myself.

Speaking of what lay beneath the mask; my face was visible! She may not have been frightened or repulsed, but surely she did not want to look at it forever. She had only removed my mask out of necessity, after all. Perhaps her disgust, however mild it might be, was only being suppressed for my sake.

"Where is my mask?" I asked her, looking around. I had to have it; that one defense I had from the cruelty of mankind.

It was there on the floor next to the couch, well within my reach. She had thought of my comfort, evidently; I barely had to reach, and that was certainly appreciated, as my chest still felt painfully tight (not like before, but it still ached).

I had closed my eyes, and was bringing the mask to my face when a gentle little hand landed lightly on my arm.

"You don't have to wear it," Destiny's soft voice whispered. I opened my eyes, and looked at her, genuinely surprised by the honesty, conviction, and complete lack of any discomfort in her voice and eyes.

There was nothing to betray her. Her eyes were not locked on mine, but they did not roam, either. There was no slight facial tick, no tight set to the corners of her mouth (they were turned slightly up in a gently encouraging smile, that neither wavered nor trembled away). Her hands, both the one on my arm, and the one at her side, were steady and calm. If she _was _repulsed, she was very good at hiding it.

"To be honest," she continued, smiling, "I think the mask is creepier. I mean, no one can tell what mood you're in. That's bound to cause problems."

_Me_

He laughed. It was a pretty laugh, deep and musical, and it brought up images of another man, one I did not really remember. My dad.

But I couldn't think about him too much (for one, there wasn't much to think about) because Erik _was laughing. _And not in that dark, cruel 'I am the Phantom! Fear Me!' kind of way, either. It was warm and likable, and it made me laugh, too.

So I hugged him. It's just a thing I do, when things go from angsty comforting to laughing so fast that there's really no true emotional change, I hug.

I felt him stiffen up, but I didn't let go. Instead, I snuggled my face into his chest, and sighed, smiling (he had the perfect chest for burying your face in; because he was so thin, there was a bit of a dip in the center, just big enough to fit a cheek).

Eventually, I felt him shift and he returned the hug, and I smiled even more.

_Good work, Desi! Physical contact barrier deconstruction has begun! HUZZAH!!!_

We sat there the entire day, and I taught him to play the DS. He was absolutely fascinated by the pokemon, and told me how cute he found the one called Castform. It was my favorite Diamond pokemon, too.

Erik caught on fast, and I decided to show him my laptop. What harm could it do, so long as I didn't show him the multitude of fanfics that involved Susan Kay's book and all the other versions of Phantom?

We played the Sims for hours. Erik and I made a household that had the two of us, Nadir, and Ayesha. We set the free will option on, and let the interactions fly. It was funny how much the sim-Erik and sim-me's reactions to each other were just like the real us's.

At one point, the sim-me jumped up on Erik for a piggyback ride, and I smirked.

_Good ideas for when he's in a good mood. Heheheh..._

Of course, I'd have to be careful. I knew I was a bit on the heavy side. The last time I checked, I weighed somewhere in the 120s, and I wouldn't want to crush poor Erik. If he didn't expect me coming, jumping up for a piggyback ride might just throw out his back, and boy would _that _suck.

When both our stomachs started rumbling, I got up, and decided to try and make dinner.

"Do you want anything?" I asked him.

"I'm not hungry," he replied.

I frowned. He needed to eat, so he could get his strength back (he still looked weak, and too pale, even for him).

"But you've got to eat something," I tried again. "What is there to eat down here? We both need something to eat."

After a few more tries, he relented, and I helped him hobble into the kitchen. It still hurt him to move too much, or too fast, so we went slow, and I helped him sit at the little table.

"You're good?" I asked (he was shaking slightly, and panting).

He nodded slowly, and offered up a tiny smile.

I returned it and patted his shoulder, then went to look through the cupboards.

_Huh. Smoked Salmon. I wonder else is lying around..._

I found some bread, chicken stock, there was some powdered milk in the back of one shelf, and even some olives. In another cabinet, there was _caviar. _I'd read more of 'Phantom' since I'd been here, and evidently, Ayesha ate caviar. Pretty much exclusively. Oi.

_I wonder if the cat's ever had catfood?_

Speak of the devil, it was then that Ayesha wandered into the room. She mewed insistantly, and nudged Erik's hand. When he barely scratched her chin, she meowed again, and jumped into his lap, pushing, rubbing, and nudging at him.

Erik groaned, and set her on the floor, flinching, I noticed, when he moved his left arm to do so.

Ayesha whined, and jumped back into his lap. This time, Erik just shoved lightly. He _clearly _wasn't in the mood.

"Come on, Ayesha," I sighed, grabbing her and setting her on the floor. "I'll get you dinner. Leave Erik alone."

In the end, I managed to heat up some of that chicken broth stuff on the samovar thingy (Gods, that thing is hard to figure out!), and chopped up the salmon. There was butter in another cupboard, so I put that on the bread (not too much, as it wasn't healthy, and Erik didn't need high cholesterol on top of already present heart problems) I sliced. I poured the powdered milk into two cups, and added some water.

When everything was ready, I came back to the table, handing Erik his food, and picking up my spoon to eat my own.

_Erik_

She was something else, truly. I still hurt, but at least it had faded now. I was touched by her willingness to share with me things she held dear. She taught me to play that DS game of her's, and that strange computer thing.

The whole day we sat there on that couch, as she taught me things about her devices, smiling and letting me try as well, and I knew she did it to take my mind off the pain in my chest. I was grateful.

And then she made dinner. It certainly wasn't professional, but then, there wasn't much to go on. It was more than I was used to, anyhow, and it tasted good.

She was too much for me. Too kind, too caring. Too much a tender, understanding soul to be stuck with me. God, how did I deserve her innocent kindness?

"Come on," she encouraged. "You've got to eat something. I want you to feel better."

I looked at her. How could she care so much about _me? _I was a monster. My own _mother _could barely look at me _with _my mask on, and here this teen-aged girl sat, looking with open concern _at my actual face._

I couldn't say anything. Not because it hurt to breathe, but because her care touched me. What _was _there to say in the face of such caring? She had supported me down from the roof, she had slept next to me should I need her, she had comforted me after a nightmare, she had taken me away from pain in a way morphine couldn't (morphine was a painkiller; it dulled the pain in my chest until I could think of other things as well. With Destiny, not once did I notice the ache until she helped me to the kitchen to eat), and she had guided my steps when I know I would never have made it two feet without her and made dinner (I could tell she'd given me more than she had, and I smiled at the thought).

For her, I picked up the spoon in front of me and ate.

Destiny smiled at me, and returned to her own food, seeming more upbeat than before.

"Did you like it?" she asked once we were both done.

I had, to tell the truth. She was a good cook, and that she'd managed to get the hang of using the samovar that quickly was a credit to her learning ability (as was her aptitude with the baritone. Up until this recent mess, I'd given her daily lessons, and she had absolutely taken off with it).

"It was nice," I said honestly, meaning it.

She smiled at me, and stood, bringing both our dishes over to the sink, and rinsing them off in the water.

_Me_

When we were done, I washed the dishes, and walked him back to his room. He was obviously still having a hard time with pain, but he was better off than before dinner. I made a mental note to get him to eat at least once every day.

XxX  
Another chapter out! I hope you all liked it. Update soon, please!


	7. Ooh, Fireworks!

Ooh, Fireworks!  
XxX

_Me_

One week later, and Erik was back to himself. It was almost like the heart attack had never happened. In fact, if it weren't for the sight of him fallen on the roof burned into the back of my mind, I would have thought it was just a dream. Since then, much to my relief (I hadn't lied when I said I thought his mask was creepier than his face), he hadn't worn his mask. I knew it kind of freaked him out that I wasn't scared, but it seemed to make him more open, too.

At the moment, he was teaching me again with the baritone. He played a note on the piano, and I responded with the same tone on the baritone.

It was high-pitched, and took a good deal of concentration to hit, but I got it, clear and bell-ish, warm and dark. Gods, I loved the baritone.

"That was quite good, Destiny," Erik said, smiling.

I grinned back at him.

"And the next lesson's tomorrow, right?" I giggled, happy. I really liked spending time with him. It was fun.

"No."

I blinked.

_What?_

"I've taught you all I know, my dear," he explained.

_Ah._

Somehow, that was even sadder than him deciding he didn't want to teach me anymore. I liked getting lessons from him.

That's how I got my idea.

"Let's play something!" I gasped, smiling. I hoped he'd be into the idea. "You on the piano, me on the baritone. If you want to."

He smiled.

"That would certainly test your skills," he mused. He turned to a stack of papers at the side of the piano, and rifled through them for something.

After a minute, he handed me a few sheets of paper, and put the corresponding piano part on the music stand attached to his piano.

With music sheets spread out before me, sitting cross-legged in a basement-turned-house next to the Phantom of the Opera, I played the baritone.

I recognized the tune in an instant, and I whooped, playing out loud and strong. I knew 'English Folk Song Suite' wouldn't be put together til the early 1900s, but the songs in it were much older, and I gave my heart to the song; 'Seventeen come Sunday'.

When it came to the big, brassy - as my band teacher had said; Darth Vader-esque - undertone, I channelled what dark side I had, and lost myself.

Erik's piano part was flying through my ears, wild and shrill in its intensity.

Music had always been important to me, and I remembered very well the last time I had played this song.

I'd still been on the clarinet at the time, and the runs and trills had been a bit much, but, just like now, I had been carried away on the notes, the brass section playing in my mind crystal clear, even now, two and a half years after that performance, whenever I walked down a hall with a purpose.

I'd never known anyone's hands could fly so fast over a piano keyboard, but it didn't even really register. All that did was the music. The glorious music that took me back two years to my freshman year of high school, when I'd first played in a concert under the incredible Mr. Stephen Brooks, the best band director I'd ever had.

When the song ended and I opened my eyes, (that's how lost in the music I'd gotten; I hadn't even noticed they were closed) I was actually a bit surprised that I wasn't sitting back in Bristol Eastern's band room, with Mr. Brooks, and all the other band kids. My friends Jess, and Natalie, the other Jess, and Laura...

_Don't start the tears now, Des. That's just pointless. You'll see them again, sooner or later._

"Wow," I said intelligently (note the sarcasm).

_Maybe I should try out for the orchestra? Can't go wrong when the _Phantom of the Opera _is your music teacher, after all._

"You did wonderfully," Erik told me, and I grinned, face, judging from the heat, bright red.

"Do you think I'd make it in the orchestra?" I asked hopefully. Being in an ensemble again would make this place feel even more like home.

He nodded.

"It is quite possible, my dear," he replied, and I grinned, standing, and hugging him.

"I heard something about auditions yesterday, so can I go up and try out? It'll only be a little while."

He smiled.

"Take as long as you wish. I must come with you, though. If they let anyone into that orchestra who does not have true talent, the management shall hear from me."

I laughed. I knew what it was like to have people in a group who just couldn't - or wouldn't, in the case of a couple of flute players at my school - play up to par. It always annoyed me that they thought they could still make it in band without putting in true effort. Bristol Eastern High School Band had high acclaim as far off as D.C at least.

I remembered the competition in Washington with a wry smile. John Caewood. He was one helluva awkward, cool senior. I'd miss him. We'd been friends since I met all the big band/chorus kids when I was a freshman.

So we went up. Erik slipped off to Box Five, and I stood in line for the auditions.

Several people auditioned before me. Two clarinets, a bassoon, two tympani, five violins, a cello, three trombones, and a harp. Then came my turn.

Cringing, and glancing to Box Five were I knew Erik was watching, I walked out onto the stage in front of the music stand.

The conductor introduced himself; Monsieur Reyer. In my head, nervous laughter reverberated. Reyer. What was this, a cross of all the versions of Phantom? What, was Choletti the manager? Was Gerard going to suddenly appear? Would Nadir be sharing the whole 'Erik's protector at the Opera House' role with Madame Giry? Would Meg be blond? Or would Christine? And the viscount? Would it be vicomte Raoul de Chagny, or count Philippe de Chagny? How in the Gods' names would I know?

He handed me a sheet of music, and told me to play. Shaking, I glanced over the music. There were some really high notes, and fast runs, but with luck, I could pull it off without a hitch.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, brought the baritone to my mouth, and lost myself in the music.

It wasn't as flawless as when I'd played 'Seventeen Come Sunday' with Erik back in the lair. A couple of times, I dropped tempo, or stared at a note I wasn't quite sure of, but the sound came out right, so I guess that impressed Mr. Reyer enough to let me join up. Once again, I was the only girl in the baritone section. There were a couple in the flutes, and the harpist that auditioned had been a girl, and I think there was an older lady on the piano, but that was it.

I honestly thought I was going to fall over as I made my way off stage and up toward Box Five. My legs felt weak, and I couldn't believe I'd just gotten a place in the orchestra at the _Opera Populaire. _

My Gods, the fantasies that always wandered my head were slowly becoming real.

_Erik_

The other auditioners had talent, I'd give them that. But I was not interested in them. I wanted to see how young Destiny would do under pressure Would she crack, and prove that she did not have what it takes to be someone in the spotlight? Or would she astound as them as she had me with her quick learning and competence?

Even when she looked nervously in my direction, I stayed in the shadows, out of sight, out of mind. I could not risk being caught.

She did wonderfully. She was not quite as confident as when we had played together, and I sensed that she did not know the piece in front of her as she had obviously known the one we had played, but she did well.

I had known from the start that she would make it, whether she broke under strain or not. There were hardly any baritones left after several had been fired last year, and two more had quit because of me (I confess that had not been intentional. Evidently, I had been a bit too careless in returning home one day, and had been seen. Scared the poor fellows so badly they quit (I _might _have gone a bit over board in giving them the idea in the process that wandering the opera house alone was dangerous, however...)).

I watched Destiny walk off the stage to the left - toward me. Five minutes later, she was standing before me in the doorway, smiling, and looking for all the world like an eager young puppy.

"You did well, my dear," I told her. "Tonight, we will celebrate. There is something I want to show you that can only be seen tonight. At night."

She may have forgotten the days, I didn't know, but tonight was New Year's Eve. Every year, I had made a habit of going up to the roof to watch the fireworks that were set off from the Bois de Bologne. The display was always beautiful, and I knew she would love it.

A rather curious light flickered in her eyes for a moment, before she smiled.

All the way back home, her face was practically glowing with excited laughter. She had astounded M. Reyer, from what I'd seen. In all the years of the opera house, there had never been a female baritone player. She would be the very first, one of only a few women in the orchestra.

And yet, she said again and again how she never would have come close to this, if not for me. That was not entirely true. Someone had worked with her before for the notes to come so effortlessly. She knew the basics. I had simply retaught them to her, and from there, expanded upon her potential. She had made the cut because she had talent.

At home, she laughed, swinging in a circle before setting the baritone - which I planned to give her, now (I had no use for it, after all) - in it's place in the corner.

"There," I heard her whisper. "Safe and sound, carefully put where you belong, just like Erik asked."

_Me_

I smiled as I put Erik's baritone back in place. I wouldn't need it, as I was sure Mr. Reyer would have one for me to use.

"You take good care of your things," he commented from behind me.

_Wait.... say that again?_

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning and looking back at him as he removed his mask.

"The baritone,'' he replied. "It's yours, now. A gift; for your efforts."

I felt my eyes go wide. _Mine? _This preciously cared for, beautiful antique instrument was being entrusted to _me? _Whoa.

"I..... Thank you!" I squeaked, jumping up and glomping him again. Unlike that first time, this time, he hugged back - albeit a bit hesitantly, and after a moment of surprise.

I grinned and pressed my face into his chest. I'd never cried because of something I'd been given before, but this was different. It was like my father was back from the dead and here to care for me again.

My dad had died before I'd even turned a year old. I was always told by my mom just how much he'd loved me, but it never seemed to sink in, because I couldn't remember it myself. Now, with the way Erik had been treating me, and the baritone he'd just given me, I wondered if this was what having your own father was like.

But enough with the sentimental mushy-ness. I was so honored that Erik would give me something of his, and I would treasure it forever.

_Erik_

The intensity of her actions surprised me. But I could hardly say I minded it. Quite the opposite; I was pleasantly overwhelmed by her gratefulness, and the affectionate way she showed it.

After a surprised moment, I returned her embrace, smiling, and holding her close.

I was still in the darkness, reaching out slowly, but this was the farthest I'd ever gotten without running into the bars of my cage.

Later that night, about an hour before the New Year's Eve fireworks display in the Bois, I prepared to take her above. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I brought earplugs and a blindfold. Should the display start early, I did not want her to know until we were on the roof of the opera house, as it afforded the best view possible.

No one else ever went up to the roof to watch the fireworks. Likely they did not know of the perfect view. It would be a wonderful surprise for Destiny.

"You must wear it," I explained as I placed the blindfold over her eyes, "because this is a secret surprise. I don't want it spoiled ahead of time."

I slipped the earplugs into her ears, and led her out of our house.

Up I guided her, through the corridors, and secret passages that only I knew. Even from here, I could hear faintly the booming fireworks in the Bois. So they were already sending up the testers. Soon the actual display would begin.

We reached the roof just in time for the first of the fireworks. I pulled out the earplugs, and removed her blindfold just as the golden sparks errupted in the sky.

I saw her eyes go wide as she gasped, and an awed smile crossed her face.

The twin puddles of brown were lit with the colors of the fireworks as she turned to look up at me, confusion glimmering behind the amazement.

"Happy New Year's, my dear," I said in way of explanation.

She laughed, and I smiled at her.

_Me _

I wasn't sure what Erik was planning when he blindfolded me, and stuck earplugs in my ears. But when I saw the fireworks, I was blown away.

I had lost track of the time down in Erik's lair. I hadn't realized it had been a little over a month, but evidently, it had.

"Happy New Year, Erik,' I replied, sitting on the roof to watch the fireworks.

The fireworks lasted a good hour or so. They were beautiful. I had never seen a fireworks show this detailed before (little Lake Compounce didn't have the money for a show that lasted longer than fifteen to twenty minutes).

I wished my friends at home, and my mother, could have seen this. The fireworks shot up into the air, exploding into showers of colorful sparks in the night. There were some colors I'd never seen in the Lake's fireworks before, and they were truly incredible.

"Erik," I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. "This is great. Thanks for bringing me up here."

I hugged him around his shoulders, and closed my eyes, happy.

After a second, I felt him shift, and he hugged me back.

"I knew you would like it," he told me.

_Erik_

For some time, we simply sat together, watching as the fireworks display came to an end.

By the finale, she was exhausted. From past experience, I knew these shows lasted until well after midnight. And despite her attempts to the contrary, she was a creature of the day at heart, and she needed sleep. I pulled her to her feet, and led her home.

A couple of times, she stumbled, but I would not let her fall. She hadn't let _me _fall in a similar situation a week and a half ago.

Rather than let her drop, half asleep, through the trap door of the torture chamber, I led her down through the old Communist Road, and to the lake.

We were almost there when the last reserves of her energy burnt out, and she sat down, already sleeping. I lifted her into my arms, and carried her the rest of the way.

She woke when I moved to lift her out of the boat, and shuffled off to her room with an exhausted 'goodnight'.

Tired myself, I lifted Ayesha from her place on the couch - she, too, was nearly asleep, and she barely moved as I cradled her close as I had Destiny - and turned for my own room. For once in my life, I was ready for sleep.

XxX  
Chapter done! Next one to come soon! I hope you all liked it, and review please!


	8. Swing, Miss, and Don

Sorry for the long wait guys. I couldn't think of anything. But the story's back now, and it should be good.

Swing, Miss, and Don  
XxX

_Me_

I picked up the baritone, which was situated in a case Erik evidently had, too.

_Yeah, orchestra rehearsals! Woot!!_

I was happy. Really happy. And it might have had something to do with the sugary stuff Erik made for breakfast (oddly enough, despite the fact that he almost never eats, Erik's a good cook. And as for the 'sugary stuff,' I think he said cinnamon rolls, but I was already too far gone (I'd had like, three by that point, and usually I don't eat that sort of thing)).

But anyway, I was really, _really _happy, and excited about rehearsals. We'd been practicing the score to 'Faust' (no one at home will _ever _believe me, I know) for about a month, every day except Sundays. Even if there had been rehearsals on Sunday, I would have gotten out of them somehow. You need at least one day a week to rest the lips from playing the baritone, after all.

"See ya, Erik!" I yelled over my shoulder as I left the house, and started walking toward the thin path that lead around the lake. I _think _he replied, but I wasn't sure.

By the time rehearsals were ready to start, most of the sugar had worn off (hey, it takes a while to get up to the stage from Erik's when you're distracted by even the least shiny thing, two baby rats, a random string that turned out to be a trigger for one of Erik's booby traps (evidently, I was coming from the wrong way to get caught in it, because the ground _behind _me fell away, so I was good), and a rock shaped like an ice cream cone (do not ask me. It probably only looked like an ice cream cone because of the sugar)), so I was somewhat saner.

When Mr. Reyer said we would be rehearsing with the actors today, I grinned. Live music, and a show! And I was part of it!

Carlotta was there. I looked to box five, but I couldn't see Erik (not that I ever could, though).

When that woman hit the high note, I think I saw the glass on Mr. Reyer's pocket watch break. I know my ears almost started bleeding. Ooh, she was so much worse live than in the movies. Made me shiver. And not in the good way.

I wished very much by the Jewel Song, that I'd thought to bring earplugs. Oh, this was not going to work out if I had to sit so close to Carlotta, and listen to her screeching. Honestly, she sounded like a dying ferret, amplified by ten thousand.

Just when break began, I looked back at box five again. Just the slightest flutter of a shadow. Erik only made himself known when he wanted me, so I set down the baritone, and scurried off to see my buddy (heh, I _love _that movie 'Open Season').

"Your playing was off," he said, a slight edge to his voice. "Why?"

I shook my head - not in response to him, but in trying to get the ringing out of my ears from Carlotta trying to hit high notes.

"Same reason half the people in this place are nearly deaf," I sighed, rubbing my right ear. "Carlotta really needs to accept that she can't sing."

_Erik_

Poor thing. At least the column in box five allowed me some protection from that voice. Oh, I understood how she felt. And I could understand why it would effect her concentration.

"I agree," I nodded, smiling. I had to smile; I had seen many others quit because of Carlotta. At least Destiny had made it through the first trial.

I saw her turn, and following her gaze, I could see the orchestra maestro returning to his position.

"Oop, time for me to go," she sighed, walking away. "See ya when we're done."

She may not have liked having to listen to Carlotta, but she clearly enjoyed playing the music. Every day for the past month, she would come back to the lair, and begin practicing, or toying with some other melody that she obviously knew from her own time. She was clearly very devoted to music.

_Me_

When I saw Mr. Reyer head back to the conductor's stand, I hurried back to my place in the orchestra pit. Halfway between the back stage and the stairs, I tripped, stumbling and crashing into one _maaaaajor _headache...

_Carlotta._

"You!" she snapped. "Leettle-a orchestra girl! Watch-a where you're-a going! If you rip-a my dress, you'll be out of a job-a!"

"Excuse me," I muttered. "I _tripped. _Not my fault the floorboards are uneven."

"Impudent leetle-a girl-a!" Carlotta cried.

I really didn't want to get into anything like this. Rolling my eyes, I turned and walked down to my seat in the pit, ignoring Carlotta's indignant squaks behind me.

I still couldn't concentrate as well as usual, but if I really tried, I could mostly focus on the music.

Once rehearsals were over, I made my way down to the old abandoned dressing room with the swiveling miror. I felt for the triggor, and walked off down the passage.

It was always eerie to come down here alone. The walls dripped water, and there were absolutely no echoes. It was dead silent, and even loud noises always seemed muffled.

In the third cellar, I pressed the nail in the wall, and dropped down into the torture chamber. I was about to walk out, and let it close, when I realized that from my angle, the noose hanging from the tree looked a lot like a rope swing.

I stepped out into the living room, and turned off the torture chamber. Once the power that supplied the intense heat I'd heard of in Leroux's book, I went back in, and climbed the iron tree.

When I reached the height of the branch with the rope on it, I inched out, and lowered myself until I was sitting in the loop at the end of the rope.

For a while, I sat there, pumping my legs until I got up enough momentum to swing. It really was fun. And it reminded me of Paige Park, a quiet little park across the road from my high school back home. I used to go there after school sometimes to wait for my mom to come and get me.

_Erik_

I watched until the rehearsals were over, then went to the roof.

I often came out to the rooftops to think, and to sort out my thoughts.

Now, I looked out at the rooftops of Paris, and tried to see the view with her eyes. Young, sixteen, energetic, new to this place, despite the months that she'd been here.

Today, I really looked at the colors in the sunset. The red stood out, crimson as the blood that pulsed through every living being on this earth. The yellow appeared as bright as gold, and as the colors faded to the deep, endless indigo of the night sky, I looked to the stars, clear and distant, every one of them.

I wondered what it must feel like; to have a loving home, a family who cared for me, for all of my childhood, birth to sixteen years of age, only to have it stripped away on what should have been a short, though incredible adventure. What should have been three weeks from home turning potentially into an eternity without a chance of ever getting back.

I pitied her. As much as I genuinely cared for her, liked young Destiny's personality, I felt for her. She did not belong here, however lovely she may look in the dresses of 1879 Paris.

I wondered, not for the first time, what had prompted me to trust this girl, to open up at all, and allow her to share my home. I had had a distinct sense that she was different. I was honestly amazed that I had trusted myself. After all, I had thought living with Giovanni would be different, and that had turned out to be a disaster.

I still could not believe she accepted me to the level she seemed to. It just did not seem possible. How? Why was she not terrified of my face like everyone else?

Was it possible that, had I been found by the right people instead of those gypsies, I could have been taken in by people like her, who knew that what was inside a person was far more important than what was on the outside? If it was, then God truly was a malicious entity.

And yet, I found myself thanking Him that I had met Destiny. She was like a defiantly bright, bouncy beam of moonlight, more earthy and humble than the blazing, austere rays of the sun.

I wondered if I would feel the same protective care I felt toward her for a child of my own flesh and blood. Was having her in my home showing me what I would have had in a blood daughter?

I cursed, thinking of all that I wanted, all that I had missed out on simply because of my lack of a face.

But I could not dwell on it. Not when the sun was nearly set. I could not let Destiny stay alone in the house too long. She would miss me, and begin to worry. If I knew her right, she would decide to come looking for me, and though she knew much about the underground passages, I knew she had almost no vision in the darkness of the cellars. She might easily become lost, and it would take me simply too long to find her in those tunnels.

When I approached the shores of the lake, I could hear the ringing of the alarm. My heart stopped for a moment, and my stomach clenched in dread.

_Oh, God, not her. _Please _not her! _

I paddled the boat as fast as I could across the lake, my hands shaking.

_She hadn't found the switch to let herself out! She could be dead by now. _

I hated myself then. _Why _had I installed a _torture chamber? _First Bouquet, and now Destiny? There would not be another life taken by that room.

I still cannot describe the measure of relief I felt when I entered the living room of my home. The door to the torture chamber was open, and the room was dark and cool. Through the gloom, I could see the outline of a figure, legs in the noose, swinging back and forth as she clung to the rope.

I heard her laugh lightly, and almost felt indignant. She had, of course, turned the torture chamber into her own playground.

When I turned on the gas light, I could see clearly that I was right. She was using the noose that hung from the iron tree in a corner of the torture chamber as a swing, her brown eyes closed.

"My dear," I called.

I regretted speaking when she startled, and fell back, out of the noose and landing on the floor of the torture chamber with a slightly echoing _thump_.

"Ow," I heard her groan as she sat up, rubbing her head. She looked up at me and waved. "Hey, Erik. Glad as I am to see you, couldn't I have had some.... _gentler _warning?"

Her words made me laugh, but I did feel horrible for frightening her. At least it seemed she wasn't hurt.

"I apologize, my dear," I smiled, walking forward, and extending my hand to help her up. She took it without hesitation. It still amazed me that she had no fear of me, that she could take what I offered gratefully without cowering away at the first chance.

"Thanks, man," she sighed. "But that tree and the noose makes a really good swing. Maybe you should unhook the electrical suply permanently, and turn it into your own private park?"

My own private park. Good God, was there no end to her?

_Me_

I think Erik thought I was crazy. He'd be right, but it still made me say 'huh'. But there again, birds of a feather, right?

"My own park?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. We could put in a little pond in one corner, a bench on the other side of the tree, some lights that _don't _cause intense heat. We could really make it nice. Maybe even put down some fake grass, or something."

He rolled his eyes and walked away.

"Erik?"

"You are, without a doubt, the most insane child I have ever met." There was a fondness in his voice, which made me smile. He liked me! Well, I knew that, but still.

"Can I still make it into a park?" I asked. "It'd be a lot nicer to jump down into when we come home."

I could almost hear him roll his eyes again.

"If you wish," he sighed, vanishing into his room. He did that sometimes; popped off to his room and left me to my own devices. Which, really, wasn't too bad a thing to do. I was a lot more sensible and calm than many of my friends.

My devices usually ended up being curled in a corner with a sketchbook.

I grinned, and went into my room for the sketchbook on the dresser. I grabbed it, and my pencil, and returned to the library/living/music room.

I curled myself into a little ball-ish on one end of the couch, and flipped through the sketchbook to the first blank page.

I wanted to draw characters. I'd tried several times over the years to start different manga's, but they'd all died. Maybe this one about the circus set in the late 1800s would finally make it somewhere? I'd gotten the plot down, decided on the look of the characters, names, and how many there were, and who was related to who.

Right now I was drawing Mihai, the gypsy man who is married to the main dancer, and the father of the second. He's also the resident violinist. I hadn't decided yet, but I was fairly sure he was going to be the one who gets sick, that the other peoples have to go find medicine for, without being caught by authorities (you know how it is with gypsies and authorities).

I wished Erik would come back out, though. I liked getting to hang out with him. He was nice to me, and played really pretty music.

I was starting to get tired of drawing, and Erik _had _said that I could play the piano if I wanted. I wasn't that good, but I knew a couple little things, sort of.

Since 'Scarborough Fair' was the only song I knew both hands to, I decided to try that one out. I gently pressed one of the keys, and out flowed pretty sound. I grinned. I'd only ever played this song on the grand piano setting on my electric keyboard. I'd never played it on the actual thing, and the real grand piano sounded so much more beautiful.

I started the song, and sang softly with it. I don't have much of a voice, but I really love singing. And this place just made it ridiculous not to sing when music was thrumming in every silence.

_"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.  
Remember me to one who lives there,  
for she was a true love of mine."_

_Erik_

I was a bit surprise, I'll admit, when I heard the soft strains of a rather haunting melody. I recognized it, of course, but I hadn't thought she knew it.

Scarborough Fair. The song of a left behind lover.

And then I heard her voice.

_"Tell her to make me a cambric shirt.  
Parsely, sage, rosemary, and thyme.  
Without no seams, nor needlework,  
then she'll be a true love of mine."_

Her voice was far from perfect. I had heard many better. But, while it held no promise for opera, ever, it was a soft, pretty alto voice. She was not perfectly on pitch - I hadn't expected that she would be, if she ever sung - but it was a nice reprieve from listening to the screeching high notes of Carlotta. If only she could have sang soprano with the power she sung the lower register.

Oh, to a degree, she could sing in the upper register, but not very high. It was clear when she hit one high note. The whole package paused, the playing _and _singing. I'll admit, it wasn't a pretty note, but it was not at all painful.

After a few moments of silence, I heard the slow beginnings of a Christmas hymn. 'Silent Night'. Could she not know that it was nowhere near Christmas? Of course she knew. Destiny had more contact with the world above than I. The only logical explanation was that song was what she knew, and so, to occupy herself, she played it.

After a moment, I returned to working on the newest section of Don Juan. Just because I had Destiny with me, that did not mean I would forget my music.

I froze when I heard the slow, halting notes of a section of my opera. Dear God! Had I left part of it at the piano? In her innocent reach?!? Oh, surely I deserved to burn in Hell for letter her get her innocent hands on that music. It would overwhelm her with it's harsh emotions.

And yet, she didn't stop. I was halway out the door of my room when I realized that she was still playing, now close to tempo, both hands. She must have been playing longer than I'd realized.

And then I understood. The halting notes between 'Silent Night' and now, were not her trying to remember a song, they were her trying to _learn _Don Juan. Poor innocent girl. She had no idea what horror I'd accidently left for her to find.

But she didn't seem to be affected. Neither was I. That was why I had always deemed this music dangerous. It always put me into such a state with the raw emotions, that I determined no one else would ever hear it.

She was still playing when I walked into the room, but it was clear that the music had her in it's hold. She was enthralled with it, and wouldn't notice if I went up and touched her, she was so engrossed in what she was doing.

_Ah, so Don Juan _does _have some power, after all. It was not merely my imagination._

"You play beautifully," I told her. Though the music did not have nearly the effect on her that I thought it would have on someone, I could not risk her continuing to play it. Perhaps the raping of her senses would come over time, but eventually, it would come.

She started, the note jolting harshly as she jumped, then turned around.

"Oh," she muttered, almost laughing. "Hey, Erik. And, thanks. But I'm not really that good. It usually takes me forever to learn a song. I don't know what it was about this one."

I nodded. I could see what she meant. There _was _something about Don Juan, something I had never meant to enter into it, but had. I was unsure what, and I doubted I would ever know.

"All the same, I must ask you to be careful playing that particular work," I told her. It was not safe.

She nodded, as though she understood.

"It burns, right? With fire?"

I was not sure what she meant. I could only assume it was something from her own time reffering to me. I resolved to ask her what was to become of me... one of these days.

XxX  
Yay! I'm sorry it took me so long to update this. I promise to try to do better. Anyway, I hope you all liked the chapter. Review, please!


	9. Mwahahaha!

Hello again every body!

Erik: Oh, no.

I heard that!

Erik: I know.

And you're joking, yes?

Erik: um....

Don't mind. So, ready for the next chapter?

Erik: Just start it already. And when does Christine come in?

Later. And now, the chapter!

Mwahahahahaaaaa!!!!  
XxX

_Erik_

She already knew a good deal about playing the organ. Destiny picked up songs fast, and the only complication she had was coordinating the left and right hand parts of a piece. Eventually, however, she would master that as well, and play the song with enough skill that it was pleasing to hear, if it was not perfectly on tempo. Her fingers were quick and light over the keys, and I never worried that she might damage it.

True to what she'd asked, within a week, I found the power supply to the torture chamber cut, and artificial grass covering the floor. The lights still worked, but they no longer supplied the intense heat that would drive a person mad enough to hang themselves.

She changed the noose into a ropeswing, just as she'd suggested, and I would often find her in that room. She'd painted the reflections of the tree onto the mirrors, and had painted birds and squirrels as well. Even managed to put in a small fountain that resembled a pond.

Where she got the koi fish she filled it with, I fear I shall never know (she refuses to say, only smirks, and skips off to 'the park' as she has dubbed it, _every time_).

I had, as of yet, had no cause to ever check on her during the night, to see that she did, indeed, sleep in her bed. One night, however I had the sudden sense that I needed to see her, to be sure she was still here.

Her room was empty when I opened the door. The sheets on her bed were turned back, and there was no sleeping teenager in the bed.

And yet, for some reason, I was not worried. Despite the fact that it was _after _the discovery that she was not in the house, that I found the map she'd drawn of the tunnels and the rest of the opera was missing as well. She was up to something, clearly, and I intended to find out what.

Knowing there was no reason for her to wander the cellars, I went up above, into the opera house, to find where she'd gone.

_Me_

I walked as silently as I could, trying to go smoothly. The entire plan hinged on appearance and lack of sound on my part. I'd even bought some dry ice to make smoke and mask my feet. It worked (tied in cloth to the inside of my nightgown, it didn't freeze my legs, thank the Gods).

I went around the dormitories several times, and finally, found a ballet girl leaving a room. She was a tiny, blond little thing, older than me, but rather thin, almost fragile. I walked forward, making a quiet hiss to catch her attention..

The girl jumped, and turned, her hand going to her thin chest. She let out a piercing shriek, and soon other doors were opening, and slowly, frightened heads began to appear in the doorways.

Someone shouted something about the Opera Ghost, and it was so hard not to start laughing. I'm still not sure how I managed to keep a blank face.

I almost completely lost character when the final girl looked out of a door.

She had light skin, large, bright blue eyes, and curly dark hair.

_Oh, come on!_

Christine. I'd know her character anywhere. Oi. But it didn't matter. She seemed about as frightened as the rest of them, popping back into the room and slamming the door behind her.

Someone clutched the blond girl's arm, terrified. The blond was shaking, and I was honestly starting to think she might faint, or have a heart attack.

For the most part, I kept my head down, and once I was sure none of the ballet girls were going to drop dead because of this, I raised my head to show the great big, fake blood slash across my neck. It was ketchup, but in the dim light of the dark halls, it would look like my death-blow (and it only helped that I'd put on makeup to look more dead).

Then I looked at this one girl. She was about my age, with black hair, and large brown doe eyes. She was shaking like a leaf, but didn't look like she was going anywhere. I think these chicas actually kind of liked getting so frightened.

Anyway, I gazed at her, though not directly, and pointed at her. She gasped, a hand flying to her throat. I suddenly wished I was in my own time so I could have someone filming this.

I looked at her a long time, then started laughing as insanely as I could. There was a huge flurry of ballet girls, then, all of them running around like chickens with their heads cut off. I really had to fight to keep my character.

Someone said something about my being a ballerina that the Phantom had killed, and I laughed again, the same, insane cackling, and ran forward, scattering them all back into their rooms, shrieking as they went. I think someone even cried for their mother.

Once they were all inside, I doubled over, howling. Oh, this was rich. Young women in the 1800s were _pussies. _None of the people I knew would have fallen for something like this. Only little kids in my time wouldn't have seen through the cheap special effects (dry ice from a butcher shop down the road tied to the underside of a night gown, and watered-down ketchup).

_Erik_

I found her at last near the ballet dormitories. I heard one girl say something about needing to use the toilet, and then Destiny came round the corner.

There was smoke - obviously from dry ice to anyone who was familiar with such things - around her feet, hiding her lower legs, making it look like she was floating. Her face was impossibly pale - she had to have used makeup; no one in as good health as she could ever naturally be that white - and there was a dripping red line across her neck, which, on closer inspection, was nothing more than cunningly applied ketchup.

The poor unfortunate in the hall let out a wail when she saw Destiny, and I realized, with devious glee, that she had quite the knack for mischief. She kept her head low, to hide the fake wound, as several more ballet rats inched into the hall to see what had happened.

There was a general panic when she raised her head, and pointed at a young black-haired ballerina. The poor thing was absolutely horrified as Destiny let out a chilling laugh that rang and echoed in the stone halls. The acoustics were echo-y, and absolutely perfect for such a stunt. Her performance was wonderful, and I would have laughed as well, had I not been in awe of such wicked ingenuity.

Clearly, she had a secret dark side; a side that she was displaying tonight before the entire terrified _corps de ballet. _I admired her her imagination, and skill. She'd clearly done such things before.

When she broke into her normal laughter, only far louder, and more wild and gleeful than I had ever heard it, I stepped around the corner and approached her.

"Very well done," I told her. "But I must ask; why?"

She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders beneath her nightgown, the smoke from the dry ice just about faded away, the ketchup drying on her skin.

"I've done this sort of thing before," she explained, her eyes sparkling in wicked glee. "In my time, there's this amusement park I go to, and one Halloween - All Hallows Eve here - I dressed up as a Gothic vampire, and ran around the park scaring the shit out of anyone and everyone who crossed my path. It was great."

There was a bit of madness in her eyes, but it was fading into merely dark humor, and I found any concern I'd had for her sanity was predominantly gone.

_Me_

How incredible tonight was! Oh, the looks on those poor girls' faces! I wished my mom had been here to see this. It totally beat out Lake Compounce and that chicken tipping incident (yes, I did try to tip a chicken. At a religious camp, of all places, me and two friends went into a barn, and disturbed some sleeping chickens (I swear I'm usually not that mean to animals!(none of them got hurt, I promise!)), and our councelor told us it was funny, but we had to stop because the owners of the camp were coming).

I slept really well, judging by how awake I felt in the morning. I still was really happy about last night. It had been so fun. I acknowledge, and embrace my mischevious side, which likes to pull pranks and in general be a bit of a nuisance to twittering prisses.

I'd asked Erik if sometime, we could pull off something larger together last night, and he'd laughed, agreeing that it would be a great idea.

Heheheee, I love scheeming and ploting pranks.

Erik was already at his organ when I wandered through the room in search of breakfast.

"Morning!" I smiled, feeling incredibly chipper.

He turned and looked at me, an eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Still basking in your obvious success last night?" he baited. I grinned.

"Yup! But I'm hungry, so I'm-a go get some breakfast now. You want anything, Erik?"

Erik shook his head, and I sighed, but let it go. He didn't have to eat if he wasn't hungry. Me, on the other hand, my stomach was growling, so I was going to eat the first edible thing I could find.

I picked out a couple slices of salmon, and some powdered milk (I love milk....). A good breakfast, considering my usual was a glass of apple juice and a peanutbutter sandwich back home.

Thinking of home made me sad, but I was happy with Erik. He was so nice to me, and really, it was fun to hang around an opera house.

After last night, I'd decided to make a name for myself.

"I'm-a be the Shadow," I grinned to myself. "The Ghost's Shadow." I giggled un-frighteningly, and sat at the table to eat.

And though I was mostly endlessly proud of my achievement last night, I was also aware, somewhere inside, that the events that lead to Erik's death/downfall would be starting soon.

Another year or two, and Christine would rule his life.

But for now, Erik was my buddy (I smiled as he walked into the room, and sat next to me at the table), and I took another bite of my salmon.

"May not be peanut butter and apple juice," I joked, "but I love salmon."

I saw Erik raise an eyebrow at me, and I had to laugh.

"Yes, peanutbutter sandwich and apple juice was my regular breakfast," I smirked. "Don't look at me like I starved myself. Do I _look _like I'm starvin'?"

He laughed. It was true, though, I definitely didn't look like I needed to gain weight (though, turns out, for a five foot two height, I didn't weigh enough to give blood (no seriously, you have to weigh 129 for that; I only weigh 117)).

"You certainly do not, my dear," he smiled.

I liked it when Erik smiled. His cheeks didn't look so hollow, and I could imagine what he might look like without the deformity. I guess he'd look even more attractive (yeah, it's weird; a lot of females who like Phantom are incredibly attracted to our Erik. Odd, it is).

_Erik_

She truly was something strange, young Destiny. Her compassion outweighed any disgust that might have lurked in her at the sight of my face, and she was always so warm and welcoming. Again and again I was reminded of how gently she'd cared for me months ago, when she'd supported me down from the roof, and played nursemaid for three days.

Now, she was growing. Clearly she was not the child she often acted like. On some level, she may have been, but at her core, she was a fierce young woman with a powerful will. A young lioness in a world of timid mice. And yet, by her own admission, she was shy and reticent by the standards of her own time. I found it interesting, that _she, _of all people, would seem soft-spoken, and yielding, ever.

Certainly she was the most spitfire I'd ever had the pleasure to meet.

A wild little thing she was. And she rarely wore corsets. I knew. I'd seen the way the dresses fit her, and they did not hang the way they would have, had she worn the restricting undergarment.

But I could not find her immodest. A bit brazen, and bold, surely, but she was a very respectable girl.

No, not a girl. Young woman would have been more accurate to describe her. Her seventeenth birthday had passed without my knowing. In fact, she had barely mentioned it, saying only that she was seventeen now, and asked if she could go above. As if I could stop her.

I had spent the day looking for anything to please her. All day, I ducked in and out of shops, praying I did not run across dear Destiny, thus ruining the surprise.

It did not take me long to find the perfect gift. A small, simple pair of red stone earings, set in antiqued silver. They would compliment her coloring wonderfully. Dark colors seemed so suited to her.

She'd been so happy to get them, and to this day, a month later, wore them always, despite her own assertion that she would more than likely forget to put them in one day, simply because she most often did not think about jewelry.

I was often surprised by the complex simplicity of her personality. One moment, gentle and kind, the other, terrifyingly wicked as she ran through the halls of the ballet dormitories late at night, cackling insanely and bringing an odd chill into the air with her ability to sound entirely mad.

On occasion, her false, touched laughter still sent shivers down my spine when it echoed through the halls of the opera house.

_"Mwahahahahaa!"_

She became the Shadow to the ballet girls, feared as an omen that the Phantom was not far away.

XxX  
To be completely honest, I would so do that. I've actually done what I said I did - the Lake Compounce and the chicken tipping. The chickens weren't hurt, so I felt a little okay with laughing about it. Lake Compounce, now, is another story entirely, and is a big part of why I _adore _Halloween. One year, I dressed up as a modern day, gothic vampire, and ran around the park, scaring anyone and everyone. _That _was the most fun I'd ever had at an amusement park.

Erik: You _do _have a dark side, don't you?

Yep! And darn proud of it, too (even though it's a dark side, it still gets right and wrong).

Erik: That-a girl!

*grins*

Review please!


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